


Warning: Past Soul Bind Performance Not Indicative of Future Prophets

by LeadVonE



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Master of Death, Soul Bond, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeadVonE/pseuds/LeadVonE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master of Death brings his 130,000 years of experience to slam down on the unsuspecting head of his biggest and most entertaining challenge yet. Voldemort brings all her cunning and guile to rip open the mystery that is Harry Potter. And Dumbledore, Fudge, and the rest of the wizarding world, scrabble to make sense of what in Merlin's name is going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Almost Seer

Harry Potter, the Master of Death, was bored.

This wasn't unusual. He'd lived life many, many times after all. Had jumped dimensions and traveled in time more often than he could count. Had grown up as Harry or Harriet Potter, and had watched other Harry's and Harriet's grow up and old. At some point in his existence he'd fallen in love with and married almost every student who'd ever gone to Hogwarts in his first life, both male and female versions.

He'd defeated Voldemort so often it had become a game. His best attempt had been defeating Voldemort three weeks after becoming aware of his master of death status at age 11, on his own, with no special magical powers, save those from his first life. The look on that world's Dumbledore's face, who'd been the rare combination of both good and competent, when he'd given him the memories on arriving at Hogwarts, had been priceless.

He'd been a dark lord and light lord, had collected almost every Animagus form possible, both magical and non-magical, had lived in dimensions where the rules of magic were so different from his first life that the biggest threats were not Voldemort, but necromancers, elementals, demons, and fairy queens. He'd even fought across multiple dimensions at the same time, leading the forces of light or darkness into other worlds, and brought friends, lovers, and enemies with him on his travels across lifetimes, growing up and old with the same person many times before they'd grown tired and asked for the eternal rest.

He was staring out of the window of the Hogwarts Express, a pad of muggle paper on his lap, notes strewn around the compartment, his ideas for this lifetime.

What should he do? As far as he could tell, this dimension was pretty similar to his first life. He'd grown up with his magic hating relatives, who'd been highly unpleasant but not physically abusive. His knowledge of being the master of death had kicked in when he'd touched his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and a selection of memories, chosen before he'd been born into this world, had filtered into his mind over the next few weeks. He'd already tried a bunch of rituals and magics to test the rules of this world and had found nothing special.

Harry looked down again at his notebook.

Idea after idea of how to make this life more challenging, each one with more self imposed limitations than the last.

He stared at the last item:

Persuade Hannah Abbot and Voldemort that she is the true girl-who-lived and guide her to defeat Voldemort by the end of the fourth year (100 points). Bonus points if Voldemort is defeated using her Animagus form (20 points). Bonus points if Draco Malfoy falls in love with her (20 points). Bonus points if Dumbledore declares Susan Bones to be the true girl who lived instead (20 points). Lose five points for each time you must save her or her immediate friend's lives.'

He slammed the notebook shut and sighed.

The door to the corridor slid open and a very familiar girl with bushy brown hair stepped in. Another familiar, slightly shorter, chubby boy was standing behind her, softly crying.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville lost one," the girl said, her tone bossy, clearly indicating her right be there and to ask.

Harry was already reaching for a book in his bag.

"Hello Hermione. No, I haven't seen Trevor but there's a spell in here you'd probably find useful if you can learn it." The challenge hung from his words while Hermione stared at him in surprise.

"How'd you know who I am?" she asked, taking the book Harry proffered her and glancing down at the page he'd left open.

"I'm a seer."

"Oh, are you really? I haven't read much about divination yet, we don't get to choose it until third year and I've been too busy reading all our textbooks for this year which I think I've managed to learn by now, I do hope I'm not too far behind, neither of my parents are magical at all so I imagine I've still got quite a bit of catching up to do, this spell is a forth year spell, do you really think I could learn it?"

Ahhh, the 11-year-old Hermionian breathless monologue. Harry drank it in like a glass of fine wine.

"I know  _you_  can" Harry intoned, with the emphasis on 'you'.

Hermione's eye's widened, and after a few seconds staring at Harry, sat down with the book and started reading. After a few minutes she started practicing wand movements.

In the mean time, Harry had waved Neville over to a seat opposite his. The boy was still sniffing.

"Don't worry. Even if Hermione can't summon Trever by the train end, he'll turn up on the boats. Trust me."

"Is that a seer thing too?" he stuttered through the occasional sniff. Harry nodded.

"Being a seer is really rare you know," He glanced up at Harry with slightly red and watery eyes. Harry just nodded again.

"Why are we going on boats?" Neville asked.

"The first years take small boats to the castle over the lake while the older students take carriages. It's to give the older students time to get seated in the great hall before the sorting ceremony begins. It's also a far more beautiful way to be introduced to Hogwarts, the view is magnificent from the lake."

"You're a first year too aren't you? How'd you know?"

Harry tilted his head slightly while fixing his gaze on Neville.

"Oh right. Seer. I forgot"

"Well, for the view, yeah. The rest I read about in here," Harry pulled out his copy of Hogwarts a History from the small pile next to him.

Hermione looked up from repeatedly tracing movements with her wand. "Oh I've read that book, it's ever so good, I think, and its so good to know that much about where we're going to be learning for next seven years, its so amazing, which house do you think you'll be in? I hope I'm going to be in Gryffindor".

What to do. What to do. Harry knew at this point he could pretty much sort Hermione himself with his next words, and he still had no clue what he wanted to do with this lifetime… nuts.

"In Gryffindor you will be the best of the worst. In Ravenclaw you will be the best of the best. In Hufflepuff you will be the equal to all. and in Slytherin you will be the better of no-one."

Hermione blinked before frowning. "Dumbledore was in Gryffindor. Are you saying he is the best of the worst".

"No. But you are not Dumbledore. You are Hermione Granger, which is far better, trust me," Her eyes widened again at that, "and the house Dumbledore was in has no meaning to where you will become the best version of Hermione Granger you can be." Harry held her gaze until she broke it, looking back down to the book Harry had given her where she'd progressed from basic wand movement exercises and had started the intermediate movement progressions.

"Do you… know something?" She asked quietly.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Things you can only find out be making choices and living life."

She looked annoyed at that "Are seers always this cryptic!?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Why!?"

"Because the more definite the knowledge of the future, the more certain the future will not be so."

Hermione hesitated at that. "I… guess that makes sense."

Neville was watching the interplay between the black haired boy and Hermione with fascination. The idea of being the equal of everyone else held a great deal of appeal to him. He knew his Gran wanted him to be in Gryffindor, like his father, but every bone in his body called him elsewhere.

Hermione was now looking at the black haired boy as if for the first time. Her eyes drifted over the pile of books to his left, the notebook on his lap, the myriad of notes that lay around him, and finally back to his deep emerald green eyes, which stayed fixed with hers, as if waiting for something.

She finally stepped over to him and held out her hand to his. "Hermione Granger. Its a pleasure to meet you."

Harry smiled and took her hand before shaking it. "The pleasure is mutual. I'm Harry Potter."

Her eyes went wide again. Neville sat straighter in his chair.

"Are you really? I've read all about you in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizards and Witches of the 20th Century… None of them said you were a seer though."

"That's because I haven't told any of them yet. You're actually the first people I've ever told, and I'd like it to remain that way for the moment."

As the two nodded the door of the compartment opened and a blond haired boy walked in, flanked by two much larger boys, and he STILL didn't know what he wanted to do with this lifetime. Arghhhh!

"They're all saying that Harry Potter's in this compartment, so it's you is it?"

Harry smiled. He'd met Draco at Madam Malkin's and had kept his options open. Draco could be a massive annoyance or a perfect ally depending on how his parents brought him up and how he decided to play. He couldn't see a good reason to go all massive enemy on him yet. He stood up and stepped over to Draco his hand out.

"That's me. Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, scion to the ancient and noble house of Potter, and scion to the most ancient and noble house of Black."

Draco's flinch at the name turned into wide-eyed shock. "Scion of house Black? How? My father said I'm supposed to be."

"Sirius black is my godfather, and he named me successor to the Black line in his will."

"But. But. Why would he… do that?!" Draco's look of shock and confusion deepened.

"Why indeed," Harry smiled, "but I fear we're getting ahead of ourselves. I've introduced myself but I believe you've yet to do so my noble friend."

Draco straightened. "Draco Malfoy, Scion of the noble house of Malfoy. But… you already knew that didn't you." Harry nodded. "How? If you don't mind me asking. I've not seen you at any of father's parties and I've heard no-one in the Wizarding World's seen you since the night you defeated the dark lord."

"As scion of an ancient and noble house it is my prerogative to learn the histories of the families of our world."

Hermione's eyes slightly narrowed. That hadn't been an answer, but the blond haired boy seemed not to have noticed.

"Well at least you seem to know what you're doing. I was afraid I was going to have to teach you everything."

Harry grinned.

Draco then frowned before continuing, "but may I then ask why you're keeping this company?" his gaze swept with distain over the compartment taking in Neville and Hermione.

"The Longbottoms have been allies of the Potters since time immemorial. As for the Grangers… Well, you'll see the power that lies in her blood once we get into class, and I'll leave it to you to speculate as to its origins." Harry's grin widened.

Draco looked towards Hermione, very uncertain. "Well, OK then," he said eventually. "I look forward to seeing you all at the sorting and feast". He stepped out of the door."

"I look forward to watching your sorting into Slytherin, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's uncertainty changed to a smirk before the door slid closed, the two boys at his flanks, ignored and forgotten.

"Well that was… interesting" Hermione eventually said. "Very formal. I felt like I was in a Victorian novel. I've read a bit about pureblood customs of course, in a History of Magic, but I never thought that even the children would be like that." Harry's insinuation there might be more to her family than she knew hadn't been lost on her but she decided to stay quiet for the moment.

"How can you stand him Harry? You do know what his family did in the last war, right?" Asked Neville.

"Sure," Replied Harry, "but Draco is just a kid trying to make his parents proud. He hasn't done anything wrong yet, and with the right friends he might never."

Neville looked dubious but said nothing.

The three then settled down to the rest of the train journey. Harry and Neville swapping stories of their upbringing while Hermione assiduously practiced the summoning charm.

Several hours later, towards the end of the train journey, Neville and Harry sat and watched as Hermione opened the door and with all her power attempted to cast the summoning charm. 30 seconds went by and nothing happened. "Oh well." Hermione looked exhausted and dejected. "It is a fourth year spell after all."

Harry just kept watching the door while smiling. And then, Trever the toad slid his way into the compartment, dragged slowly on his back by an unseen force.

"Trever!" Neville half shouted with relief.

Hermione looked stunned.

Harry stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. "Welcome to Team Awesome Hermione."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

"First years! First years this way! All right there Harry?"

The trio had alighted from the train and made their way to the boats, being lead, and briefly greeted, by Hagrid.

Their party was joined by a red haired girl Harry immediately recognized as Susan Bones. Harry briefly wondered if he should start trying to play any of the games outlined in his notes, but quickly decided against it. He just couldn't be bothered.

The flotilla slipped through the quickly darkening countryside before rounding a corner and revealing Hogwarts Castle. The sight still did things to Harry's insides, even after Merlin knew how many tens of thousands of years. Hogwarts would always be his true home, no matter how many he made outside its walls. He held a sliver of hope this Hogwarts would be sentient, but knew it was unlikely, especially with just how close to his first life this world seemed.

The boats had docked, and the group assembled in the corridor outside the great hall, waiting for professor McGonagall to lead them to the sorting.

Harry's eyes swept over the faces of his soon to be classmates. Every one familiar, every face containing memories of love, hate, conflict, and peace. Then his gaze slid over the face of a girl with long jet black hair, and stopped with the force of a nundu hitting a mountain.

He didn't know her.

…

…

…

No. He studied her face carefully. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't place it. He did know this person, he was sure, but he just couldn't… like a name on the tip of the tongue, this face…

She was tall for an eleven year old and she held herself with the poise and self assurance of a pureblood. Indeed, she was standing next to Daphne Greengrass and their forms looked close to identical. But her clothes looked poor. Second hand. But well maintained. While everyone else was nervous, fidgeting, and swapping stories of possible challenges and death defying dangers they were about to face in the sorting, she just stood, surveying the faces around her with the same detached interest he'd been using just a few moments earlier.

Their gazes met and he quickly broke his stare and looked away.

Fascinating.

Someone new.

Maybe she was the younger or older female version of a male student he'd never gotten to know before. That did happen sometimes.

A smile spread on his face.

Or maybe she just has a really low probability of existence. A unique set of circumstances needing to come together to ensure her birth or her magic?

Anyway, something to look forward to.

Professor McGonagall had returned and was now leading them in a line to the front of the great hall. The sorting hat was brought out and duly sang its song. Nothing special. In some worlds it would sing something much more interesting. Sometimes it had even detected his existence in the world, or even at Hogwarts, and had sung about that, much to the shock of the staff and students.

Slowly, the students were called up. There weren't any real surprises, although he did smile when Hermione went to Ravenclaw and Neville went to Hufflepuff. Then, it was his turn.

"Potter, Harry!"

The traditional muttering greeted Harry's walk to the hat, hundreds of eyes staring or craning for a look at what they merely believed to be the savior of their world before the darkness of the hat fell over his eyes.

"Bee in your bonnet Harry Po—What the?!"

"Hello hat."

"Oh, Merlin, no."

"Yep."

"This is too much."

"Sorry about that."

"Then let's get this over with quickly. You've been the heir to each of the founders at some point in your existence, and the courage, willingness to work hard, love of knowledge, and cunning you've amassed makes any house an option. So, go on. Where do you want to be?"

"Mmm, well whatever I end up doing, I've generally found that creating an all star team from all four houses often works best. Being in Slytherin makes that more difficult at first but more effective once the dynamic is established. So, go ahead. Slytherin for me… and I assume the rules you are bound under in this reality forbid you from disclosing details of your discussions to others?"

"You assume correctly. Very well… SLYTHERIN!"

The murmuring that had filled the hall died instantly. Neville and Hermione started clapping but quickly stopped, the shocked silence deafening their attempt to welcome their friend. Not even the table of snakes moved a muscle.

Harry stood up without fuss, walked over to his new house, and sat himself beside Draco. "Surprised?" he asked the Malfoy heir.

"I guess I shouldn't have been." He muttered before they both turned back to the remaining first years.

Harry's eyes immediately zeroed in on the one student left he was interested in and their eyes met for the second time. Harry registered the same shock in them the rest of the hall had. Almost certainly not muggleborn then, and while the rest of the line had resumed their nervous fidgeting, the tall black haired girl continued to stare before realizing he was also staring at her and looking away.

A loud choking noise from professor McGonagall drew his attention. The witch had been staring at the names list before turning to headmaster Dumbledore, confusion and worry in her eyes, whom just gave a nod and a wave to continue.

'Interesting reaction,' Harry thought, 'I wonder what that was about?'

The professor turned back to the hall.

"Riddle, Tammy."

…

…

…

'Ummmm'


	2. An Almost Innocent

\- One-month earlier-

Tammy Merope Riddle, 11-year-old orphan, Master of Death, was biting down her excitement.

Five minutes ago, she'd been grumbling while doing her morning chores for the orphanage she lived at. Now she was holding a thick envelope addressed to 'Tammy Riddle - the fourth bedroom on the right-hand side', while standing in front of a Wizard with a long white beard, dressed in purple robes with yellow stars. The moment she'd taken the envelope the memories had flooded back. She was the Master of Death, and this was her ninth life. She was also Lord, or, as the case was currently, Lady, Voldemort.

It had been a shock, in her fourth life, to discover she'd been born female. She still wasn't sure why gender seemed to be a matter of chance on rebirth. After all, it wasn't as if other genetic markers like hair color, eye color, and facial features changed with each rebirth. She'd spent the whole of that fourth life ignoring her newfound gender and it wasn't until her second life as a witch that she'd given in and fully accepted all the experiences on offer to the fairer sex.

Standing in this room briefly cast her mind back to her first, horrible, life.

Born Tom Riddle, she'd grown up to become a homicidal, psychotic, maniac, had split her soul seven times, become less than human, and had been almost completely destroyed by her 16 year old boy-nemesis. It was only that boy's decision, after death, that had saved her. He'd chosen to go back rather than on, but not just a bit, but a lot. In a desperate bid to save all those he'd failed to save the first time around, he dragged his soul all the way back to his 11th birthday, and unknowingly brought the tiny fragment of her soul, which was supposed to be left behind, with him.

As the boy proceeded to tear the wizarding world a new one, she'd, realizing her mistake, quietly absorbed all her other soul fragments as the boy 'destroyed' them. After the last fragment was joined to her she'd leapt from the boys forehead, where she'd been hiding, straight into the body of the man she'd once been, re-uniting her soul, and shocking the boy-who-lived no end. Whereas before he'd faced an insane madman, now he was faced with a very much sane and much more thoughtful Lord Voldemort. One smack-down battle of the ages later and the boy-who-lived, along with his friends and lovers, were very much down and out, and the ultimate prize in her grasp… All three of the deathly hollows.

With these, now internalized in her soul, she needn't worry about death. Not even a Dementor could permanently harm her. Horcruxes had been a horrible idea. This was much better. Her third life had been spent redoing everything over again, but this time, done sane. She'd become minister of magic by her thirtieth birthday and the name Lord Voldemort was spoken with the same reverence and respect as Dumbledore's, who'd been her closest friend and confidant. She'd achieved everything she ever wanted. Immortality, respect and power.

It was then that Riddle learned one of the fundamental truths of the universe…

With great power, comes great paperwork.

And now she wanted something different.

The next few lives had been spent exploring the limits of her new ability, and developing methods to both time travel and dimension travel. It had taken her the next five lifetimes, nearly a thousand years, of solid research, but she'd managed it.

She'd arranged to be born as normal in her home dimension before a pre-arranged time travel and dimension travel ritual ripped her to 1980 on another world. Her own time was becoming repetitive and she figured fighting the psycho that was her first life's Lord Voldemort alongside Potter and his crew could be really fun.

And it had worked. She was here. She was going to live through a whole different life, in a new place, meet new people, and experience so many new things. After 1,000 years of dusty tomes and mind bending magical theory, Tammy was barely containing her joy.

Merlin she loved life, and now the whole of reality was hers for the experiencing.

The man in front of her, her greatest enemy and closest friend, eyed her with suspicion, mistrust, and fear, carefully hidden, but not well enough, behind a grandfatherly air of good humor.

"I'm magical?!" Tammy gasped. Her occlumency shields came up to full strength, the entirety of her current life shoved in front of the shields for Dumbledore's full inspection, while her previous memories hid behind. She maintained her motionless upright pose and looked the man straight in the eyes.

"Yes indeed Ms. Riddle," Dumbeldoor's eyes twinkled, "You are a witch and have a place at my school."

"Is that why strange things always seem to happen around me?"

"Most likely," more twinkling.

A bright smile spread across Tammy's face.

"If I'm a witch do I get to ride a broomstick?"

Dumbledoor chuckled. "Not in your first year Ms. Riddle. You have lessons but you aren't allowed to own one yourself."

"Wait, you're serious?! I was just joking."

"Ah, well there's a lot of things about our world you'll learn about soon enough, but first we must go buy your supplies. You can read your letter on the way there."

"Can you tell me more about the school I'm going to?" Tammy asked the man as they exited the orphanage.

"Hogwarts has existed for over a thousand years and has taught many of the greatest witches and wizards that have ever lived. There are four houses with their own values and traditions, one of which will become like a second family to you. Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Ravenclaw for the studious, and Slytherin for the cunning."

"I assume you went to Hogwarts? What house were you in?"

"Gryffindor."

Tammy seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. "I want to be in Gryffindor".

"Really?" Surprise and shock leaked out through the facade of geniality. "Why, might I ask?"

"Well… I'm not really smart or cunning so Slytherin and Ravenclaw are out. And I've never really had many friends, so I've no idea if I'm loyal. But whenever people come to visit the orphanage they always say we must all be very brave," and in the privacy of her mental shields added,  _'and Harry Potter is there and I need to be near him.'_

A brief look of sadness crossed Dumbledore's face before the twinkles returned.

"And well… You're really the only person who's ever been kind to me. I'd like to be in your old house."

"How have I been kind to you Ms. Riddle?"

"You may not be adopting me, but you're still taking me away from here."

Dumbledore stayed silent at that.

_'Oh Merlin, he must be sooo confused right now!'_

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

One circuit around Diagon Alley later and an ecstatic Tammy was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet while waving a wand around like the child she undoubtedly was, all pretense of being a young lady seemingly forgotten.

"Curious… curious" Olivander had said.

"What's curious?" Tammy had asked.

Olivander had been about to answer when Dumbledore shot him a look that said 'please shut up'.

"Oh, it's just been a while since I had a customer quite so particular about their wand."

Tammy smiled both inside and out, and pocketed her new 11-inch holly and phoenix feather wand.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0

Albus Dumbledore arrived back into his office through a whoosh of floo smoke.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts.

This morning had been… unusual.

When the dictating quill, charmed to write new students letters, had spat out a letter for a muggleborn named Tammy Merope Riddle, alarm bells rang in the headmaster's head. That the muggle orphanage this new student lived in was the same one Albus had visited over 50 years ago, and which housed the then future Lord Voldemort, just increased his worry.

When he'd first seen the girl in question, his alarm had almost become full on silent panic. The girl's eyes were exact mirrors of 'his', her face was hauntingly familiar, and she was clearly annoyed at being interrupted. But then, when he'd explained why he was there, and handed her the acceptance letter, her whole countenance changed. She smiled. Her whole posture seemed to instantly improve, and warmth seemed to fill the room.

She'd turned out to be nothing like the spiteful, hurtful boy he'd met in the same orphanage, in the SAME ROOM, over 50 years ago. She was cheerful and outgoing. While holding herself like she was more than a muggleborn, she still retained the wide-eyed wonder that all muggleborns shared.

She'd respectfully stayed one pace behind him all the way down Diagon Alley, asking question after question. Their visit to Flourish and Blotts had left her pouting about her inability to buy more books, before being pacified by the promise of the Hogwarts library. It made him wonder about her supposed lack of Ravenclaw qualities. Their visit to Madam Malkin's had taken quite a bit longer than expected. Tammy had ripped apart the shop muttering something about second-hand throw offs before finding a set of second hand robes that matched both the Hogwarts-orphans-fund's budget and her own, seemingly high, standards.

Then, there had been the wand shop.

He glanced towards Fawkes the phoenix, perched on his stand.

"What does this mean Fawkes?"

The fiery bird just trilled in response.

 _'There's obviously a connection between Tammy and the Dark Lord,'_  Dumbledore thought,  _'It's so obvious it screams. If it were just the name I'd have assumed an unknown descendent. A granddaughter maybe, as impossible as it seems. But being raised in the same orphanage? In the same room? The same age as Harry Potter? Claiming the brother wand of the dark lord?'_  Dumbledore knew wand connections were not hereditary. It was why he hadn't hesitated to take Tammy wand shopping before Harry had been. Even in his first almost-panic he'd never actually expected…

' _If I was being paranoid I'd suspect a rebirth of the dark lord, albeit in female form, but Tammy was alive before the Dark Lord fell.'_

Attacking from a different angle, Dumbledore quickly ran the prophecy through his head…

' _Born as the seventh month dies - We don't know Tammy's true birthday, the records say July 26th which is distressingly close to the prophecy's required date, but the workers at the orphanage admitted it was just an educated guess. Born to those who have thrice defied him - We don't know who her parents are. If she is a descendent, it makes sense that her parents would have been in a good position to thrice defy him, but we've really no idea. And he shall mark him as his equal – Him… well that settles that.'_

Dumbledore sighed before popping a lemon drop.

It was Tammy's living at the orphanage that confused him the most. Tom Riddle had hated that orphanage and Tammy didn't seem to like it much either. Why would either the Dark Lord or the child of the Dark Lord place either himself or their family in an orphanage the Dark Lord hated? It made no sense either way. Would a child of the Dark Lord do it to spite the Dark Lord? At the cost of the happiness of their own child? And where were all these supposed decedents of the Dark Lord anyway? Could they really have kept themselves hidden for 20 or 30 years? And to what end? And then why, after hiding for so long, flag their child with such obvious connections to the Dark Lord?

What about the resurrection theory? The dark lord is a master of mind magics and wasn't truly killed that night in Godrics Hollow. The fact that Tammy was already alive at the time doesn't HAVE to mean it would be impossible for the Dark Lord to use her body. But what about her personality? She is the opposite of almost everything Voldemort was. Except maybe the way she stands.

Dumbledore sighed again. He would need to get all these thoughts organized. He walked over to his cupboard and carried his pensive down before starting to review the events of the day.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

One month later, Tammy stood at the entrance of platform 9 3/4 with a satisfied expression. Inside though, she was still riding the high of acquiring her memories.

 _'Right!,'_  she thought, _'Master of Death time!_   _Mission: infiltrate Potter's future clan and train them up to take the fight to this world's Voldemort like the bad assess my first nemesis should have been. Main targets: Potter, Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger.'_

She took one final look at the barrier before walking towards it with the confidence of one who has done this at least 56 times before.

As she walked through the barrier, a group of red headed children were clustered around a middle-aged woman.

"Well. She was confident for a muggleborn" Said the woman.

"How'd you know she's muggleborn mum?" the youngest boy asked.

"Only muggleborns enter from this side of the platform, of course," the woman replied, "really Ronald".

"Huh. Never knew our dear old mum was a muggle, oh brother of mine," said another, slightly older, child.

"Yeah, she's kept it well hidden from us over the years," his identical twin added.

The woman looked exasperated "We don't count. You can thank your father's obsession with muggles for us traveling this way. Now go on, Ron and Ginny, you first."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Tammy was struggling to hoist her trunk onto the train. Damn this 11-year old body.

"Need a hand there?" She turned to meet the eyes of the future two most infamous arms manufacturers in the wizarding world… pint sized addition.

"Yes please."

"There you are little lady," Twin A said, depositing the trunk on the train with the help of Twin B.

Tammy smirked. "You're pretty little yourself you know."

"Hey!" Twin A said. "Is that any way to thank someone, besides, you're smaller than us!"

"Yeah, but not by much, and I'm a girl, and two years younger than you."

"Mmmm, dear brother of mine," Twin B weighed in, "it would seem we've found a firsty with some fight in her."

"It would seem we have, we'll have to keep an eye on her," twin A responded.

"Really? And what's that supposed to mean?" Tammy retorted. She was enjoying this.

"Ah well, perhaps we should introduce ourselves then."

"Fred—"

"—and George—"

"—Weasley.—"

"—The most prolific and feared pranksters since the mythical marauders,—"

"—at your service." They both bowed.

"Or, if proper respect isn't shown…—"

"—not," the two grinned.

"mmmm… does that mean you'd respect someone who can out prank you?" Tammy now had a faint smile on her face.

The twins looked at each other. "I do believe we've just been challenged."

"I do believe you're right."

They turned back to look at Tammy whom kept her faint smile on her face, slipping away from the door and out of sight, lugging her trunk behind her.

She found an empty compartment, shoved her trunk to the end of it, closed the door, and flopped down on the bench, whipping out a notebook full of little squiggles. Before the young master of death could begin her inspection of the book, however, the compartment door opened and a red haired boy with a rat on his shoulder stuck his head in. He was a little shorter than her, but she was tall.

"You're insane you know." the boy said.

Tammy raised an eyebrow in question.

"You just challenged those two to a prank war. They'll destroy you."

Tammy smiled now.

"No they won't."

"What? Why not? They're famous for their pranks, they are. They've been doing it since they were kids. I should know. I've been the victim of loads of them."

"That's one of the reasons they won't win."

"Huh?"

"You're going to help protect me."

"WHA?!" The boy was slack jawed now.

"You're going to be my intelligence on how those two think. As an important victim you have a unique knowledge of their abilities and how they do things"

"I… I don't know how they do things."

"Its more the patterns I'm interested in."

"Mental."

Tammy smiled. There had only been one life where she'd really come into contact with the golden trio, as they'd laughingly been called, and there hadn't been much socializing involved. However, she'd seen enough, in her more sane moments on Potter's forehead, to know the basics.

Before the boy could abandon what he obviously thought of as a lost cause Tammy shot out "whose your quiddich team?" and before the boy could respond followed up with "mine's the Chuddly Cannons". It was about as subtle as a battering ram, but the kid was 11 after all.

"Really?! Mine too!" and within moments he'd invited himself in, sat down opposite Tammy and started a very one sided conversation on their history, plays, and players, interspersed with comments about what a 'real' Chuddly Cannon fan needed to know.

Tammy let it wash over her. No it wasn't exactly the most edifying or complex of discussions but there was a simple beauty to quiddich that had evaded her in her first few lifetimes. It was in fact, a symbol of the ridiculousness of wizard kind, a game that could be won or lost at any time based on the efforts of just one of a team of seven. And if that wasn't a metaphor for the constant struggle between light and dark lords and their followers then what was?

The boy, who'd finally gotten around to introducing himself as Ron, had just started a rant about the injustice of a particularly nasty chaser foul decision in 1989, when the compartment door opened and what looked like a very young Granger and Longbottom walked in.

"Has anyone seen a toad in here? Neville lost one."

Tammy glanced around before shaking her head. "Well you could use a summoning spell, but its a fourth year spell." and in the privacy of her head added 'or I could summon a snake to smell it out, but I don't think I should go full prodigy before even arriving at the school, that'd be too unbelievable'.

Tammy stood up and walked over to Hermione and held out her hand "Tammy Riddle. Do you need an extra pair of hands to search?"

Hermione looked a little surprised but took the hand proffered her. "Hermione Granger. No, I'm sure we'll manage, but thank you."

Tammy smiled and nodded before turning to Neville, repeating the introduction, and heading back to her spot in front of Ron who was looking desperate to continue what he saw as the far more important issue of obviously blind referees.

Their next visitor, some while later, was Lucius's son. The blond haired kid had barely set foot in the compartment when he and Ron were at each other's throats. It started with Ron snickering at the very pureblood introduction he'd given Tammy and Malfoy countering with what he obviously thought was a very witty remark about the Weasly's financial status. Before too long Malfoy's two thugs had entered the compartment and had Ron up against the wall and were about to lay into him when Tammy decided things had gone too far.

"Draco Malfoy of the Nobel house of Malfoy," she said, her voice had dropped from warm to cold as ice.

This was distracting enough to allay the immediate threat of a fist in Ron's face. Draco turned to Tammy.

"Yes? And you are?"

Tammy Merope Riddle of the newname house of Riddle.

"Newname?" Malfoy sneered "You mean mudblood".

Tammy's eyes narrowed "No, I mean newname. All blood is old and there is power in my blood far beyond the age of my name."

She then stood and stepped over to Draco, whom suddenly looked nervous when the girl lightly placed a hand on his chest and slowly moved her mouth within breathing distance of his ear.

Now facing away from Ron, she hissed  _$This is the power of my blood$_ , a whisper as quite as the compartment had become.

Malfoy's face went white.

"And now," Tammy continued in English, still too quite for anyone but he and her to hear, "I would ask you leave us. I will not be in Slytherin, but never doubt I truly belong there."

Tammy stepped away and Draco all but babbled at Crabbe and Goyle to "Leave the weasel and come with me", stopping only to briefly bow to Tammy before exiting.

Ron was getting his breath back. "Whoa, what did you say to him?"

"That you shouldn't antagonize people without first being sure of who they really are." Her voice melted from its icy tones to its former warmth.  _'Merlin, that was fun.'_  Tammy thought, _'better keep those feelings on a leash if I'm supposed to be one of the good guys though.'_

"And that worked?" Ron was looking impressed.

Tammy smiled "Looks like it, how about a game of chess?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

And now she was standing in the line of first years waiting to be sorted, and Hermione granger had just been sorted into Ravenclaw.

_'Damn. I was hoping she'd be with us, a mind like that has so much potential with proper guidance.'_

And then Neville Longbottom was sorted into Hufflepuff.

_'What? OK, I mean, it makes sense, like Granger in Ravenclaw, but still. Both of them were ALWAYS in Gryffindor back home._

And then Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin, and her brain shut down.

_'….…..no. That didn't just happen. The Gryffindor golden boy did not just get sorted into Slytherin. What the hell is wrong here?! Damnit! Jumping both in time and dimension, at the same time, was obviously a mistake. I've obviously changed stuff, but I didn't think my actions were that influential at this stage, and now I can't know if it was me or the dimensional difference. DAMNIT!'_

Tammy just continued to stare at Potter before noticing that Potter was staring right back at her. It made her feel like a bug under a microscope, which was ridiculous. She looked away, pushed the feeling into an occlumancy cube, and crushed it.

Inaction descended on the great hall for a moment before…

"Riddle, Tammy"

Darkness greeted Tammy as the hat fell over her eyes

"Tammy Riddle. Welcome to Hogwarts… Oh no… this can NOT be happening to me," the hat groaned.

"Yeah, I know, you don't need to tell me. I've already been sorted, but this time I need something a bit different."

"You want to be put into Gryffindor?"

"Yes, well no, well, I'm not sure any more. I need to work with Harry Potter. I'm NOT trying to kill him. I'm trying to save him and help him, but he's in Slytherin now."

"You're trying to save Harry Potter?

"Yes."

"…."

"…."

"You've been in Slytherin eight times you know."

"Yes, but now three of the important six are spread out over three houses. And if Weasly goes to Gryffindor, over all four! What the hell am I supposed to do?!"

"Just stick with your original plan. Your house won't matter too much anyway."

"What!? Why!?"

"I can't tell you. I'm bound to protect other's secrets."

"…."

"Well, nice sorting you, young Master of Death. I'm sure you'll have an interesting time in …GRYFFINDOR!"

Tammy got up and walked over to the Gryffindor table, failing to notice a certain scruffy haired, green-eyed boy who'd just choked on his own spit.


	3. After the Feast

1st September, 1991 - Evening [10 minutes after the welcome feast]

Harry climbed the rotating spiral staircase to the headmasters office, jumping over every prime numbered step, moving with the purpose of a star quidditch player about to grace the field with his game winning presence. He reached the top and danced towards the door in a seemingly random pattern, which would have confused anyone watching.

He knocked.

Silence greeted him from the other side before a tense voice said, "come in".

As Harry entered he was greeted by the sight of a serious looking headmaster, standing behind his desk, elder wand in hand, pointed right at him.

"Oh, Harry, my boy, it's you". Dumbledore said, rather startled.

"You asked to see me, Sir?" asked harry, smiling slightly, not taking his eyes off the wand still trained on his head.

"Er, yes. Yes I did." Dumbledore sheathed the wand looking embarrassed, but quickly readjusted his features to one of relaxation and grandfatherly warmth.

"Is this about me being sorted into Slytherin, Sir? I know it wasn't expected of me but it is where I truly belong, Sir. I don't want to move anywhere else."

"Harry. Your house is your family and once you're sorted you cannot change, except under very special circumstances. I'd never try to force you anywhere else."

'One point in his favor,' Harry thought, before he felt a medium strength legilimency probe scanning his fake memories of the last few days. 'Opp, never mind. One point against.'

"What I actually wanted to discuss, Harry, was your education over the next seven years. Your parents were friends of mine and I feel partly responsible for the situation with your relatives. Hagrid told me some of the details."

Harry just stared at him.

"I want to take you under my wing so to speak. There are various aspects of our society, that, growing up with your relatives, you won't have been taught, but which will be important for your future."

Harry appeared to think for a moment, his face a picture of childish innocence.

"That's OK with me Headmaster, but I do have to ask you to refrain from using legilimency on me again. I can't allow the knowledge of the 'power that he knows not' to be leaked by anyone."

"…"

"…"

"Harry. How do you know about that?" Dumbledore had lost all grandfatherly airs, all twinkles gone from his eyes.

"That's part of the power he knows not, so sorry, but I can't tell you."

"Harry, you are too young to bear such a burden, let alone all by yourself!"

"I've known this burden for a long time, me or Neville will be the one to destroy the Dark Lord. I have accepted it."

"Harry. If you know what the power he knows not is, you must tell me!"

"Why? I barely know you. For all I know you could be an agent of Voldemort or the very Dark Lord spoken of in the prophecy."

Dumbledore stared in horror at the 11-year-old boy in front of him. "Harry, why would you think I could be a death eater or Dark Lord?"

"In the first instance, because, while you are held up as the leader of the light, it doesn't change the fact that the light was losing before I intervened. That means your actions, regardless of how they were portrayed, were resulting in Voldemort's slow victory. That means until I get to know you better, I can't rule out the possibility you were actually helping him. In the second instance, you are a very strong wizard, who also holds many positions of power. The fact that you hold so much power means you are already one-half of the way to being a Dark Lord and only your personality and moral belief systems stop you from being one. Personality and beliefs, which I know very little about, not knowing you very well.

Dumbledore just continued to stare. What could possible have happened to the boy to make him so suspicious and untrusting? Could he really mold such a mind to become the hero he needed? Unlikely. And he NEEDED to know what the power was. It was for the greater good. The boy seemed to think he could defeat Voldemort on his own, with no guidance. Such thinking would lead him straight into the jaws of the wolves of Slytherin house, and make the chance of Harry becoming an eventual Dark Lord far too high.

'Wait', he thought, 'what was it he said? Me OR Neville? Could Voldemort somehow have marked Neville as well? He'd make a better chosen one than Harry, given Harry's new circumstances, and with the world's and Voldemort's attention still on Harry, it would make Neville's position far safer too.'

The boy continued to stare at him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"Harry," Dumbledore eventually said. "I'm not a death eater or a Dark Lord, and I hope over the years I can show you that I am worthy of your trust. I apologize for my earlier behavior and assure you it won't happen again."

Harry's childish face broke into a wide grin.

"However, I must still ask you… I understand if you cannot tell me the specifics, but something you said before doesn't make sense. You said the prophecy could still apply to either you or Neville, but you also said you know what the power he knows not is. Does this mean Neville also has it?"

"Neville has a different power he knows not."

"Does he also know the prophecy and the power?"

"No."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, gazing at a random nick-knack, before looking back to Harry.

"Thank you, Harry. And I'm sorry." And the full force of Dumbledore's Legilamancy attack smashed into Harry's shields like the fist of Merlin.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Wow! he's really going for it!"

Harriet Potter, sat safely behind mental defenses, behind mental traps, behind yet more defenses, in a decoy mind, inside a fully built mindscape, containing yet more traps, defenses, and surprises, watching on the mental representation of a giant TV screen in Harry's mind, as Dumbledore ripped past the purposefully shoddy shields and into Harry's memories, a specially chosen composite of fakes from this life and real ones from past lives.

The Dumbledore on screen was now staring, openmouthed, at a 'vision' of an adult Neville Longbottom, tall and imposing, decked out in full goblin armor, wielding his wand in one hand, an ornate sword in the other, surrounded by attractive witches, all animagi, battling a hoard of death eaters and inferi.

More 'visions' flashed past his eyes showing snatches of the prophecy, common knowledge of the wizarding world, and Harry's family's history.

Harriet continued to watch, amused, Dumbledore firing off obliviates, destroying anything he felt Harry shouldn't know, or was inconvenient.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Here we GO!" Harriet was now shouting and pumping her fist in the air as Dumbledore had retreated to a cabinet and, reaching into a draw, pulled out several potion vials. "We have, at least, a class four manipulative Dumbledore!"

Harry's body, already subjected to multiple obliviates, compulsion charms, and confundus charms, was now fed three different loyalty potions, before Dumbledore inspected his handiwork and sent the boy on his way, with a twinkle in his eye, and a humming on his lips.

Harry trudged down the stairs and out past the gargoyle, eyes glazed, before Harriet, buried deep in the deepest reassesses of his mind, started to repair the damage done by the headmaster's onslaught.

Taking control of Harry's wand hand, Harriet started to dispel the charms, removing planted memories, and replacing destroyed ones. Eventually she redirected the effects of the potions to a blank mind, which had no idea who Dumbledore was, before locking the mind in an occlumency prison, to be released only once Harry had flushed the potions from his system.

Slowly, Harriet and Harry became Harry and Harry, who, soon enough, became just Harry.

'WoW! Ok. So I guess I'd better get some safeguards in place for my friends then. This guy is in NO WAY to be trusted.'

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

1st September, 1991 - Evening [Some hours after the welcome feast]

Lord Lucius Malfoy stood by the central fireplace of Malfoy Manor, brandy in one hand, letter from his son, just arrived, in the other, brow furrowed, confusion rapidly mixing with interest. Shadows flickered across the wall, dancing across the warm light emitting from the fire.

He walked over to where his very attractive wife was sitting comfortably in a large highback chair, slowly savoring a glass of red from their French holdings, her long black hair still wet from an evening bath, her robe shifting as she did, occasionally exposing pale skin hidden beneath.

"Tell me what you think of this," he intoned, handing the letter to Narcissa, who accepted it and started reading.

_**Honored Father,** _

_**You asked me to write to confirm I was accepted into Slytherin and I have been. No surprises there.** _

_**However, on the train ride and during the sorting there were two other, slightly more surprising events, which I suspect you would be interested to have brought to your attention.** _

_**The first was my meeting with Harry Potter. Contrary to your and mother's expectations, he knew the correct addresses and how to hold himself. He seemed amiable and not at all antagonistic, despite knowing who I was. We seem to have the start of a tentative friendship. He also claimed to be the scion of the house of Black through a will written by Sirius Black and his status as godson. I'd be very interested to hear your thoughts on this. Finally, counter to everyone's expectations, he was sorted into Slytherin. The whole hall was stunned, including Dumbledore.** _

_**The second was a girl in my year that I met on the train, in the company of a Weasley. Her name was Tammy Merope Riddle and despite my not recognizing the name from lessons, she also knew the correct addresses and how to hold herself. She admitted to not being a pureblood, but also said she had old blood. She then hissed in my ear and I'm sure she was speaking parseltougue. There was no snake present but I'm certain it was. Her parting words to me were "I will not be in Slytherin, but never doubt that I do belong there". She was sorted into Gryffindor after sitting under the hat for several minutes. For some reason Harry Potter seemed very surprised by this.** _

_**Your dutiful son,** _

_**Draco.** _

"Unexpected," said Narcissa.

"Indeed."

She continued, "we will have to invite the girl to our Christmas party. There is almost certainly more to this child than some random muggleborn."

"Well, Draco seems to think she understands our culture so it should be reasonably safe. But really. The hero of the light in Slytherin and a potential dark witch in Gryffindor?"

"Yes, it does seem off, doesn't it."

"I also can't help shake the feeling I've heard the name Riddle somewhere before, but for the life of me I can't think where."

"What about this business of Potter being the scion of house Black?" Narsissa was rereading the first part of the letter.

"Tricky." Lucius looked pensive. "As long as Black is unable to claim his lordship, he remains only an heir, and his will won't be conclusive, merely supportive. And so long as he doesn't die the will can't be executed anyway. Black being Potter's godfather does complicate things… As it stands, I'm not sure which way the goblins would decide."

"But with Potter in Slytherin and not so obviously under Dumbledore's thumb…," the black haired beauty prompted.

"Yes. The downsides of losing the house of Black go from disastrous to merely rather annoying. IF Draco is able to make a firm ally of him."

"And the greater the chance of something happening to Potter in the meantime."

"Well, that logic applies to Draco too."

"Yes, but we can make another son. The Potters cannot." Her face betrayed her distaste of the words coming from her mouth.

"True, if a little morbid."

"…"

"…"

After a few moments silence Narsissa continued, "a fight for the lordship between Draco and Potter could also endanger any friendship the two have built up, increasing the cost to house Malfoy, regardless of which way the decision goes. If Potter wins we could lose the resources and votes of both house Black and Potter, if Potter loses we would still lose house Potter."

"Yes."

"…"

"…"

"I doubt Draco would see it that way though."

"No."

"…"

"…"

"It might be worth having my cousin moved to a lower security wing of Azkaban to ensure he doesn't die just yet."

Lucius sighed. "Assuming what Potter says is accurate, I think that would be best. I'd really like to know how he knows… I'll have to see if Black used a wizard legal firm. It might be possible to view a copy, if it wasn't drawn up by the goblins."

Narsissa nodded to her lord before continuing, "will you be writing a reply to Draco tonight? Friendships are always so tentative in the earliest stages."

"Yes. I'll join you in the bedroom soon."

"Goodnight, My Lord," her slight smile communicated an expectation she knew would be understand.

Smiling back, Lucius left the warmth of the sitting room, arrived in the study, sat at his large oak desk, took out a roll of parchment and quill, and started to write…

_**Draco,** _

_**Congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin house. Although not a surprise it is still a welcome confirmation of what we already knew to be true.** _

_**In regards to your observations, I'll start with the supposedly muggleborn girl. Obviously being a parselmouth is a rare and special gift and she seems to be fully aware of both the implications of it, and the status such people hold in our society. Her being sorted into Gryffindor is defiantly surprising but not totally unexpected. Being a muggleborn in Slytherin wouldn't be easy and could well be a conscious choice to deflect suspicion away from her obviously dark ability. Your mother and I would like you treat her with respect and care. Anyone with the hereditary trait of both Salazza Slytherin and the Dark Lord deserves…** _

Lucius froze, eyes slowly widening, staring at the last few words he'd written, quill poised over the page, ink starting to drip, forming ever and ever larger blotches.

The diary that wrote back! That's where he knew the name Riddle! The diary the Dark Lord had given him that contained the memories of a student called Tom Riddle! The diary the Dark Lord had said was one of his most prized possessions!

His mind raced as the implications suddenly became apparent to him.

The Dark Lord gave me the diary of Tom Riddle. Tammy Riddle shares Tom Riddle's last name and is probably a descendent. Tammy Riddle is a parcelmouth, which is a hereditary trait. The Dark Lord is also a parcelmouth…

Tom Riddle IS the Dark Lord… and Tammy Riddle is the DAUGHTER of the Dark Lord.

Lucius stared down at his ruined, ink stained, half finished letter, before scrunching it up, throwing it away, and starting anew.

A few rooms away, as the rejected drafts started to pile up, a slightly miffed Narsicca was curled up in bed, hugging a pillow, wondering what was keeping her lordly bed warmer from the snuggling she felt she was due.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"YOU WANT WHAT?!" McGonagall shrieked. She stood in front of the Headmasters desk, staring at the old wizard in front of her, disbelief etched over her face.

"Please Minerva. There have been unexpected events that necessitate these changes."

"You want me to rework the schedules of all students… by tomorrow morning!?"

"With Harry Potter being sorted into Slytherin he is too close to those who would work to bring our world to Chaos."

"But… But… you originally wanted Gryffindor to spend most of its classes with Slytherin. Now you want Ravenclaw to? How does that change anything!?"

"Please Minerva. You must trust me."

McGonagall Harrumphed. "Fine, Albus. But if your games start affecting the actual academic achievements of students, I swear I'm going to use whatever influence I have to stop the silliness."

Dumbledore smiled. "You know how seriously I take my responsibilities as Headmaster, Minerva."

"It's not those responsibilities I'm worried about Albus," but her tone was resigned. Who could really understand the intricacies of the plots this barmy old man played but him? "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow." She turned to the door and her words became more pointed. "Please do not mind to find me less than sociable." The door closed with more force than necessary.

Dumbledore leaned back on his throne and sighed. Minerva was one of his closest friends and he hated having to keep secrets from her. But what could he do? Her Occlumency skills were far from expert level and he knew she would strongly disapprove of his treatment of Mr. Potter. The fact it was all mostly legal didn't in any way decrease its social stigma.

How he wished he could potion up Neville too, but he was not his magical guardian and Madam Longbottom had refused, point blank, to allow him to be. No, he was going to have to be a lot more subtle to ensure Neville walked his destined path.

Harry Potter… Harry had become an enigma. Maybe not a Miss. Riddle level enigma—he gave a slight shudder—but an enigma nonetheless. The boy, apparently, was a seer. What he'd seen in the boy's memories was incredible but also baffling. Seers were not supposed to remember prophecies, but then, these had clearly not been prophecies. These had been visions. And many of these visions had been VERY specifically useful to Harry's introduction to the magical world. Dumbledore wasn't an expert on how divination worked, but it was almost as though some outside force was feeding Harry the specific information Dumbledore didn't want him to know.

What he really needed was to get Harry into regular one-on-one divination classes with Trelawney who, under the guise of teaching him, could keep an eye on the information he was divining. But divination wouldn't be an option for another two years and he didn't feel he could explain Harry's starting now, regardless of actual talent. It would just shine a light on the unfortunate nature of teaching that particular class.

Until that was possible, his best option was probably to have regular meetings with Harry, under the guise of teaching him knowledge of wizarding society he'd just erased, and pump his brain for new information, before obliviating it all again. It was distasteful, but it was for the greater good. Of course, there were also Severus's potions classes.

His thoughts gradually returned to Neville.

The older Neville Longbottom he'd seen in Harry's vision had been impressive. And, although Dumbledore had thought himself long beyond base urges, very attractive. He'd been large of stature, wide across the shoulders, with well-defined muscles that rippled as he'd easily cleaved his foes apart. The witches around him certainly seemed to think the same thing. They'd all had the same look in their eyes when they're gaze fell on him: Absolute devotion, trust, and an underlying hint of desire.

Dumbeldore hoped Neville and his Hufflepuff friends would make more friends with Gryffindor than he would have had with Ravenclaw. Most of the light families were in the two houses after all, and if that's what it took to help Neville then that's what the school would do.

Yes. Regardless of the small difficulties the staff and others would have to put up with, if it was Neville's fate to be a powerful, attractive, charismatic, sexy, sword wielding, wizard, surrounded by a personal harem of Animagus witches, easily capable of cleaning the dark lord's clogs, then Albus Dumbledore was going to damn well make sure it happened.

With the heavy air of a man whose life's task was making the difficult decisions no one else would, the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump continued to work well into the night, crafting plans to ensure Neville's destiny was fulfilled. It was all for the greater good, after all.

A/N:

Yes, I'm well aware of the absurdity of a stair based security system that's relies on prime numbers, even with backup at the top. :)


	4. The First Day: Part One

September 2nd, Morning

Tammy arrived at breakfast early for the first day of classes. The hall was almost empty with the noticeable exception of two red heads, huddled together, conversing in whispers. They caught her eye and one gave an almost imperceptible smirk before turning away.

Tammy narrowed her eyes. A place on one of the benches was calling to her. 'Sit here!' it seemed to shout.

She walked over to it, pulled out her wand, and waved it over the offending piece of furniture. It glowed faintly red. Another wave and the red glow faded into nothingness. A glance at the twins saw them gaping at her.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Tammy called, taking her spot on the bench and pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. But before she could take a swig, a nondescript barn owl had dropped a letter in front of her, knocking the glass over.

"Arghh!" Tammy shot a glare at the bird before pulling the letter off, shoeing it away, and vanishing the mess.

"This better be good," Tammy muttered, ripping open the plain envelope, a split second before remembering she should've checked it for pranks first.

Luckily, it seemed to be clean. She unfolded the parchment inside and read. Her eyes widened in shock.

**To she-who-has-been-cutely-named**

**There is a high chance some of your food/drink has been compromised.**

**If you're able to check for potions then I suggest you do so before every meal.**

**If you're unable to, I suggest getting breakfast directly from the kitchens. You can find them under the great hall, down the stairs leading to the dungeons. You need to tickle the pear in the painting of the bowl of fruit to reveal the door. The house elves there are very helpful and will be more than willing to help you out.**

**You should do this for every meal until you are able to learn the potion detection spell. It's quite a complicated spell for your level but doesn't require much power, so you can definitely learn it with practice. You can find the spell in ' _The Standard Auror Handbook_ ' In the DADA section of the library, or in  _'Basic Healing Spells_ ' in the Healer section.**

**Talking about this with professors or prefects would be a very bad idea.**

**I'm working on a more permanent solution but until then, trust no one.**

**Yours,**

**Coalcloak**

'She-who-has-been-cutely-named?' Tammy thought, her face a picture of incredulity.

She picked up her wand and silently waved it over her food, ignoring the curious faces of the masses starting to fill the hall. Her eyes widened again as the flood of information filtered into her mind. Most of the food and drink in front of her was laced with at least one thing. A few select pieces that had appeared on her plate had loyalty potions, but most of the food lying around was spiked with some kind of modified sickness potion.

"Hi Tammy," Ron arrived and sat down next to her, "I hope we have a free period today," he continued, reaching over to take a helping of eggs and bacon. Tammy's hand shot out and snapped around his wrist.

"Wait Ron," She said, "Eating that would be a very bad idea right now. I think your brothers may have done something to all the food," while in the privacy of her head she added, 'Or possibly someone else.'

Ron paled.

She continued, "We should eat in the kitchens for the moment. We can come back up and get our schedules a few minutes before classes start."

"You know where the kitchens are?" Ron asked, eyes shifting from fearful to excited.

"Sure," she smiled, "Follow me."

A few meters away, behind a pillar facing away from the head table, a lone, disillusioned figure in green trimmed robes stood, watching the two Gryffindors go, confusion etched on his young face, before a wide grin started to spread from ear to ear.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione was bouncing up and down in her chair with excitement. She'd just received her schedule and the first class was transfiguration. She was going to learn magic. Real magic! Like, right now! Well… in 15 minutes but still! Real magic! Of course, she'd already done real magic; at home and on the train, but this was different. It was going to be in a classroom! Her domain! Hermione beamed around at her fellow Ravenclaws who were looking bemused at her antics. She turned to the girl sitting next to her, a fellow first year who'd introduced herself as Su Li.

"Hey Sue, what do you think the first thing we'll change will be? I hope it will be something that takes advantage of Bramblehouse's emotional intent theory. I feel like I could touch the enchanted ceiling about now!"

Su gave a weak smile and spoke in a quiet voice that contrasted Hermione's rambunctious tone. "I don't think I've got that far in the book yet… It'll probably be something from one of the first chapter's exercises. And it's er… Su.

"What?"

"My name. It's Su.

"That's what I said… Sue."

"Um…No that's Sue, not Su."

"Sue."

"Su."

"Sue."

Su seemed to give up. "Ah, never mind, I guess it's not really that important."

"It is important! I want to get it right!"

Su's smile strengthened a little. "Thanks Hermione."

"No problem. I'm sure my name must be quite hard for people with certain first languages. Now, say it again?"

"Su."

"Sue."

"Su."

"Sue."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Ernie Macmillian was walking towards the Hufflepuff common room with the rest of the first year puffs when his stomach gave a warning rumble.

"Oh sweet Morgana, I really don't feel so good."

Susan Bones turned and looked at him, worried. "You don't look good either, I figured you shouldn't have gone for that last pancake."

Justin Finch-Fletchley brought his hand to his mouth and spun toward the wall.

*Bluahhhhhhhhhhh!*

"EEWWWWWW!" shrieked Hannah and Susan.

Wayne Hopkins was looking very green.

Ernie turned to Neville who was looking perfectly healthy. "Neville mate! Take the girls and go! We're done for!"

"Ummm, are you sure? You don't want some help to the hospital wing?"

"No! Take them! Only you can take care of them now!"

"You know, we are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves," said Hannah, carefully stepping away from the puddle now spreading across the hallway.

Ernie ignored her. "Neville! The honor of our houses demands it!"

Susan looked exasperated. "Oh Please! Stop being so dramatic. This is probably a prank by those Weasley twins. Auntie told me to watch out for them. You guys look dreadful, but no-one gets that sick that quickly of natural causes."

Wayne suddenly joined Justin's gastric bombardment.

In the face of continued revisited breakfast, Neville's timid posture fell away and his voice acquired a hint of steel. "OK! I'm convinced! Let's get out of here! I'll check up on you guys in 30 minutes! Hopefully you won't miss next class." And with that he grabbed Hannah and Susan's hands and, calling to Megan and Leanne, led them back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

Several barrels prodded with wands later and the fivesome slumped down in facing chairs next to the fireplace.

"That was…" Neville began.

"Disgusting?" Susan suggested.

"Revolting?" Megan added.

"…Weird," finished Neville. "Why was it they got sick? We were all eating the same food."

"No idea. Maybe just luck of the draw?" Hannah suggested.

"Maybe."

"Anyway, we haven't really had a chance to talk yet Neville. Why don't you tell us about yourself."

Neville was suddenly nervous again as four pairs of female eyes turned towards him. "Um… OK, I guess.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0

Hermione and Su had just arrived at the transfiguration classroom, several minutes early, to find many of the Slytherins already there. The rest of the classroom seemed empty except for a tabby cat sitting on the teacher's desk.

"Hey Hermione! Over here!"

Hermione spotted Harry motioning to an empty desk next to him. The blond haired boy from the train and his…friends… were sitting on Harry's other side.

Beaming, Hermione dragged Su with her, took the chair offered and turned to Harry. "Good morning! Isn't this exciting!? Our very first class! I hope everyone else gets here quickly; it wouldn't look very good if any of us were late. Oh! This is my friend! …Tsu!… li."

Harry reached over, offering Su his hand, and bowing slightly. "My name is Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you, Su."

Hermione's jaw dropped and Su's eyes widened, although whether from being introduced to Harry Potter or Harry getting her name correct was uncertain.

"Oh! That is impossible!" How did you get it right  _first time_?! I didn't even pronounce it properly!"

Harry just smirked.

Draco looked pensive. "Harry," he hissed, "She is a pureblood. You should introduce yourself to her properly."

Harry maintained his eye contact with a still shocked Su. "I refuse to introduce myself as 'Most Ancient' anything to a Chinese family that has existed for four and a half thousand years," grinning, he continued, "That would be like playing with a blade in front of Cao Cao."

Su's eye's now narrowed slightly and her voice became suspicious. "You know Chinese culture? How?"

"I had a very good teacher, Su."

"Playing with a blade in front of Cao Cao?" Hermione looked confused.

"The western version would be 'teaching your grandmother to suck eggs'."

"Oh."

Su was still looking at Harry oddly. "Pleased to meet you Potter. You were not what I expected."

"Defying people's expectations is where I get my fun in life."

The bell that signaled the start of class rang and the cat sitting on the teacher's table leapt onto the floor, changing, mid-leap, into professor McGonagall. Su, Hermione, and Draco looked shocked. Harry smiled.

"Welcome to transfiguration. I'm glad you are all on time. That must be a first for a first year, first class. I expect all of you to maintain such discipline over your time here in Hogwarts. Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous magic you will learn. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back, you have been warned."

One desk to pig transformation, and plenty of note taking later, Hermione found herself working on turning a matchstick into a needle. She'd gotten the color to change and it was a bit pointier too.

"Oh well done Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall had walked by and noticed her work. "Can everyone see the effect at this stage of the transformation?" She called out to the class, holding her work up. "Three points to Ravenclaw."

Hermione beamed as Professor McGonagall took one step to her right to look at Harry's work.

Harry's as yet unchanged matchstick suddenly turned silvery and pointy.

"Ah, well done Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, after examining the still wooden, silvery, pointed thing. "You seem to be keeping up well with Miss Granger. Two points to Slytherin." The last words were said with some reluctance and a wrinkled nose.

As the professor moved on Harry whispered, "Hey Hermione, I've had a thought. Check chapter 7 section 4 of 'A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration,' and then page 155 of 'Magical Theory'.

Hermione almost dropped her wand in her eagerness to rip open the books at the suggested sections.

After ten minutes of reading and a few moments of intense concentration, she flicked her wand at the new matchstick in front of her, picked up the result and dropped it on the flagstone floor. It tinkled.

Thirty seconds later, Harry followed suit with a perfect copy of Hermione's perfect needle.

Professor McGonagall was completing her final round of the classroom to find the two front row students smiling at her, one with unashamed enthusiasm, the other with a slight smugness that reminded her of a certain other messy, black haired student. Her eye's focused on the two needles in front of them, presented together with geometric precision. She picked one up. "Did you both do this?"

They both nodded.

McGonagall pulled two more matchsticks out of her pocket and placed them in front of them. "Please demonstrate."

Hermione focused intensely on her matchstick and gave a precise wand movement, while Harry just gave a lazy flick. The result was the same though. Two perfect needles had replaced the matchsticks.

McGonagall took a step back and breathed out. "Well. It's very rare that any student manages that transformation successfully in their first class. In fact, I can think of only a handful of cases in my whole teaching career…"

'And they were all purebloods who'd been breaking the underage magic laws, which is obviously not the case here,' she added to herself.

"…For two students to manage it. Well. Very well done, the both of you. Five points to Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

Hermione was very happy. After a lifetime of being singled out as weird and unlikeable she was finally making friends who not only tolerated her love of books and learning, but were actually able to keep up with her! Her world seemed to get a little brighter as she beamed towards Harry who grinned back.

She felt a slight heat on her cheeks and wondered, not for the first time that day, what exactly it was that those green eyes could see.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Neville and the Hufflepuff girls were walking into transfiguration class just as the Ravenclaws and Slytherins were leaving. Harry gave him the thumbs up and grinned as he walked past. Hermione was beaming. Neville stared. The beams shone out from her skin and cast a faint light on all they hit.

Neville wasn't the only one watching the bushy haired girl. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins were casting furtive glances at both her and the boy-who-lived, who seemed totally unconcerned his friend seemed to be imitating a full-moon-lit-window into a darkened corridor. Draco walked by looking very nervous. Some of the other Slytherins were looking decidedly hostile.

He sat down at a desk with two girls on either side of him and cast his gaze around the room. They were the first to arrive. His trip to the hospital wing to check on his friends had revealed just how many people had been affected by the prank. It seemed all the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor first year boys were lying on beds, moaning, with a very irritable Madam Pomfrey bustling around muttering darkly about pranks gone too far.

"Did you see that Ravenclaw girl?!" Susan asked the group.

"That was Hermione Granger." Neville replied.

"Oooohhhh, how do you know her?"

"We sat together on the train with Harry."

"Harry Potter?!"

"Yeah."

"Tell us about him! Is he all the books say he is?" Hannah entered the conversation and the other girls looked on, suddenly very interested.

"Well, I don't know about that… It's not as though there were any dragons, nundus, or dark wizards in there with us… He did help Hermione learn a fourth year spell to help find my toad though."

"WOW!" the girls chorused.

"I can't believe he's in Slytherin." Susan continued, frowning, "I would've thought-"

"-He's really nice you know." Neville cut in, feeling the need to defend his friend.

"I hope so. I don't think I could stand it if Harry Potter turned out to be a dark wizard."

"So Neville, did he say if he likes anyone?" Hannah asked.

"W-w-what?" Neville started to go red.

"Does he like anyone, you know, does he have a special someone?"

"I-I-don't know. He… he didn't say anything about that."

At this point a cat jumped up from behind the desk.

"KITTY!" Screamed Susan.

The cat jumped down and turned into Professor McGonagall.

"Epp!" Susan squeaked.

"Thank you Miss Bones. Might I enquire as to where the rest of your male classmates are? It would seem only Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasely have decided to honor us with their presence." She glanced to where Ron was sitting with Tammy.

Neville raised his hand. "Um, all the other boys got sick from a prank played in the great hall. They were all still in the hospital wing when I checked on them a little while ago."

"I see," the professor said, while mentally vowing eternal suffering on a certain pair of red headed trouble makers, after all, who else would it be? "Well then, lets start the lesson then."

After the usual desk to pig routine and lecture with note taking, the class got settled down to the matchstick to needle exercise.

"Miss Riddle?"

"Yes professor?"

McGonagall was looking down in utter shock at the perfect needle the girl had produced on the very first wave of her wand.

She pulled out another matchstick and asked her to do it again.

The same result.

Inside Professor McGonagall's mind the wheels were spinning fast.

"Miss Riddle. You ARE muggle raised aren't you?"

"Yes professor. I was raised in an orphanage and never knew my parents. Probably muggleborn too."

McGonagall's eye twitched slightly at that last comment, but kept her first thought to herself.

"Well, there  _were_  a lot of orphans at the end of the last war… but you haven't had any contact with the wizarding world before you got your letter?"

"No professor."

"Have you been practicing this spell before you came to class?"

"No professor."

"Can I see your wand please?"

"Um…" Tammy suddenly looked nervous. "OK professor."

She handed the wand to Professor McGonagall.

#Priori Incantato#

Two transfiguration spells emerged from the wand, followed by a magic detection spell, a finite incantatem, and another magic detection spell, and then nothing. McGonagall was at a loss. Those spells were beyond the capability of any first year, trained or otherwise.

"What were the magic detection spells for?"

"I was afraid my seat in the great hall had been pranked and it turned out I was right."

"Ah—Well then… An… An incredible performance, Miss Riddle. Ten points to Gryffindor."

From the other side of the room, Neville looked on, as Tammy effortlessly became a one-witch needle factory. His matchstick hadn't changed at all. "This is depressing," he intoned.

"Look up Neville!" Susan was smiling at him with encouragement. "There's obviously something you're doing that's not quite right. We'll figure it out."

Neville gave a weak smile that quickly firmed. "Yeah, you're right." He picked up his Father's wand with new energy, determined to impose his will on this miserable excuse for a bonfire.

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[Lunchtime]

Reginald Carter, the King of Slytherin, surveyed his domain in the great hall. The table of Slytherin house had a strict hierarchy as to who sat where and he was right at the top. Exactly where he knew he should be.

It had been a tough fight, two years ago, when the last queen left and he'd wrestled the title from his fellow snakes, all of whom thought the king should be someone from one of the ancient houses, not some upstart who could only trace his line back four generations. It hadn't mattered. Despite being only a forth year at the time, he'd plotted, tricked, and beaten them all into the ground to claim the ultimate prize, the lounge by the common room central fireplace and the title of King.

His gaze swept over his allies and enemies to fall on one of the forth year witches, Ashley Atkins, one of the rare muggleborns in Slytherin. Reginald reflected that she'd definitely started to fill out in all the right places over the summer. He didn't understand many of his peer's aversion to sexual relations with mudbloods. Sure they needed to learn their place, but there was no reason their place shouldn't be on their hands and knees. Anything else would be a waste of witch. He smirked.

"Carter."

Reginald turned to see Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin quidditch team.

"Yes, Flint?"

"Just thought you should know, I've been hearing that one of our firsties may be having problems understanding rule one."

Rule one of Slytherin house was that all house members presented a united front while outside the common room, and that internal politics remain internal. Almost all the Slytherins also interpreted this to mean Slytherins shouldn't help students from other houses.

"Really? Who?"

"Potter!" Flint snarled. "Word is he was choosing to help a mudblood Ravenclaw girl earn points rather than his house mates in class."

Carter sighed. "I was wondering if we were going to have problems with him. Who is his mentor?"

"Cole Spenser. Forth year. Tried out for beater last year, but didn't make the cut."

"Well I'm sure he can have a word with Potter and if Potter seems to be slow on the uptake… well, I'm sure he'd like to keep his beater skills sharp."

Flint smirked. "Right. You want I should ask him?"

"Yes. Please do so."

Carter turned back to his Lunch, noting with satisfaction that as word of their conversation spread down the table and reached Potter, the snakes around him started to discreetly shuffle away, forming a ring of isolated space. Yes. Potter would soon learn his place, just like the others. His gaze shifted back to the pretty forth year muggleborn witch, still discreetly shuffling away from Potter's position. Reginald Carter bit into an apple and smiled.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry had given Draco the slip—not hard given the blonde's mounting unease—and headed up to a familiar tapestry on the seventh floor.

The beat down was coming, earlier than expected, and Harry needed to be ready.

Harry had a lot of options, but little time.

During his time as Master of Death he'd acquired many powers and many magical forms, but that didn't mean he got to take them with him when his soul traveled. It also didn't mean his raw magical strength automatically traveled with him either.

Sometimes it did. Sometimes the dimension he was in felt that, as master of death, he should automatically win the super power lottery.

However, most of the time, the reality he found himself in used a combination of four things to determine raw magical power: Magical Core, strength training, spell casting efficiency, and rituals.

A core was usually fixed at birth and grew until the wizard was mature. In a world with only magical core strength you were either powerful or you weren't and if Harry didn't roll the correct dice on birth, then his master of death status meant little.

Worlds based on the strength training principle allowed a magical to increase the amount of power they could wield by using incrementally more over long periods of time, much like developing muscle strength in weight lifting. Because of the meritocratic nature of these worlds, people like Voldemort and Dumbledore couldn't be all that much more powerful than everyone else and could probably be taken down by a well-trained team. The only reason people like Voldemort were actually threats to society, in and of themselves, was because of horcruxes, and the like.

Efficiency focused worlds gave everyone similar amounts of power, and what determined difference in strength was how efficiently you could wield it, putting only the exact amount required into each spell for the desired result. Like strength training based worlds, these worlds tended to have fairly even power distribution. Power came from skill, range of spell knowledge, and creativity of spell usage.

And finally worlds based on rituals allowed wizards and witches to increase their power by performing rituals with permanent effects on their bodies. Most of these were almost always considered ' _dark'_  and illegal in most worlds with traditional ministries. In these worlds, the Master of Death ruled, since Harry could bring his combined knowledge of ritual magics with him, knowledge that had been repressed by governments, hoarded by families, or simply lost.

This world seemed to be a fairly standard combination of all four. Everyone got a magical core and his wasn't outrageously large, a little bit above average for a boy his age. The older students who were planning to lay down the law all had cores at least twice the size of his, if not quite a bit larger.

This was offset by his being able to wield his magic with very high efficiency. That alone closed the gap between them and put him at the level of the average forth year. Of cause, there were limits to that advantage. He could hardly be expected to go toe to toe with the entire of Slytherin house and come out on top.

His vast knowledge of magic and how to creatively combine spells gave him a further advantage, but this was offset by his current physical underdevelopment and lack of stamina, another thing that would have to be remedied.

Until he could get some serious rituals going or invest some serious time in reaching out across the worlds to re-connect to an appropriate animagus form, he was going to have go full on defensive and evasive. He simply didn't have the strength to do anything else and refused, on principle, to compromise his games with his friends in other houses. Hermione was doing FAR too well to allow that, and Tammy was FAR too interesting of an enigma.

Luckily, Slytherin house politics gave an option to 'opt-out' of the current king's rules while protecting those he was playing with. Of course unless you were the Master of Death, trying to pull what he was about to attempt would be so monumentally stupid no one would EVER try it.

Right now, however, he had the first 'Harry-Potter-lucky-dip' to go through—the come and go room.

Harry walked back and forth in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy thinking I REALLY need the lost and found.

The door appeared and Harry entered, walking swiftly into the heart of the massive room, and whipped out his wand.

#Accio moleskin pouch#

Nothing. 'Nuts.'

Harry waited a few moments to get his magic back, the room was quite large after all.

#Accio extra-dimensionaly charmed bag#

Nothing. 'Bah.'

#Accio empty bag#

Dozens of bags of all kinds flew at him forcing him to jump out of the way as they dogpiled where he'd been standing. Among the haul, harry quickly spotted a VERY nice dragon skin pouch. After checking it for curses he found it was just what he needed. He lay it in front of him, open to expose the lining on the inside—dragon hide WAS magically resistant after all—and cast the charm to create the same extra-dimensional space effect as standard moleskin pouches had.

That took a lot out of him, and he had to wait a good five minutes before he could cast the next charms to make it keyed only to him and to allow easy retrieval of items by thought. He'd like to make it invisible too, but hey, dragon hide.

The final charms were to make it weightless and to allow the opening to expand to fit large items, which also took a lot out of him.

Happy with his new acquisition, Harry stood back up, slung the bag over his shoulder, and resumed casting.

#Accio money#

A small pile of galleons, sickles, and knuts resulted, which Harry dumped into the pouch.

#Accio jewellery#

Another small pile resulted. Some of the items looked quite good, which was a surprise. Most expensive jewelry was charmed with anti summoning spells for obvious reasons.

#Accio t-shirts#

#Accio jeans#

#Accio corduroys#

#Accio socks#

#Accio jumpers#

#Accio shirts#

#Accio coats#

#Accio glasses#

#Accio shoes#

#Accio exercise clothes#

#Accio dress robes#

'I really need a mirror! I really need a mirror! I really need a mirror!' A full-length mirror appeared before Harry.

30 minutes later, the improvised Hogwarts thrift shop produced a wardrobe far better then the oversized rags of Dudley's old throw-offs. He even managed to find a pair of glasses with a more accurate prescription than his current ones. Not that that would matter once he'd done the ritual for perfect eyesight but every little helps.

He threw his old clothes to the side and moved onto the big prizes.

#Accio potion ingredients# produced moderate results but would allow him to brew a good number of standard potions for a good few months.

#Accio potion equipment# gave a large number of vials—some of which smashed as Harry wasn't quite fast enough to charm them all unbreakable as they flew toward him—and a medium sized iron cauldron, but little else.

#Accio runic inscription kit#

"YES!" Harry jumped and thrust his fist in the air. 'A full NEWT level inscription kit! SCORE!'

#Accio Pensive#

Nothing. 'Damn. It's always nice when I get one of them.'

#Accio Armour#

Nothing

#Accio Sword#

Nothing

#Accio gun#

Nothing

#Accio bow#

Nothing

#Accio magical raw materials#

A bundle of acromantula silk the size of his body dumped itself in front of him.

'Wow. First time I've seen that.'

He thought for a moment…

#Accio loom#

Nothing

'Oh well, it was worth a shot.'

#Accio timeturner#

Nothing

#Accio candles#

Success

#Accio ritual dagger#

Success

Harry grinned but was getting tired. Most of the free period was used up and, with what he'd found here, a trip to the kitchens before potions this afternoon would be his best chance to survive tonight. He really didn't want to be forced to back down.

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A/N: Thank you to everyone who follows and reviews! You keep me motivated to write more and keep me accountable to my errors! Thank you!

A/N: Canon Sue Li is a half-blood. In this fic, she's pureblood and prefers her Chinese name. Deal with it. Fun fact: Li and Su are both last names.

A/N: I take the political structure and culture of Slytherin House from one of my favourite fan fics: The Travel Secrets Series. Currently in at the third year.


	5. The First Day: Part Two

The Hogwarts kitchens were bustling.

Elves were rushing from stove to stove while pots whistled, knives chopped, elves peeled, and dishes cleaned themselves.

Into this controlled chaos strode Harry. What he was about to do wasn't risk free, but house elves were among some of the least variable people he interacted with. They were usually fairly predictable. Besides, what was life without risk?

"Greetings Young Sir!" A house elf approached him who Harry recognized as Goopy. "What can we be doing for you?"

"Greetings head elf of Ravenclaw tower Goopy. I is seeking council and trade as head elf in loco Nympha between the house of potter and the houses of Hogwarts. I is apologizing for verbal speech, but as a free wizard I am currently unable to be speaking through the mind family."

Every elf in the kitchen had frozen, the only sounds were coming from the clink of pots and the boiling of water. All eyes, round and wide, were on Harry.

Harry knew that, despite their silent visage, every elf in the whole country had started shouting at every other elf over their telepathic communications network, which they called the mind family, trying to find who had taught this human their language of contracts and very private cultural secrets.

Eventually, Goopy, who suddenly found himself acting as spokes-elf for thousands of his kind, spoke.

"How… How is Young Sir knowing of our speech and ways?"

"In a past life, I was elf-friend and severed under Tropsy, completing a six year apprenticeship in house elf management and service."

Eyes went wider, if that were possible. Tropsy had been the personal house-elf of Merlin.

More silence. More assumed shouting through the mind family.

After a few moments Goopy continued, uncertain, but with a hint of hopeful awe.

"If what you is saying is being true, what color is Tropsy's eyes being?"

Harry smiled

"One blue, one red."

The uncertain but hopeful awe in the eyes of all present elves dissolved into pure awe.

"Young Sir is being one of us!" he gasped, "Never in a thousand years, has a wizard been apprenticed to an elf! Goopy was bouncing up and down on his feet with joy. "Hogwarts house elves is accepting your request for council and trade and sections the mind family to all but our master's elves."

"The requested item is the last few months of an elf's life."

Goopy stilled and frowned. "Such is a very large item Young Sir. What is the proposed trade item being?"

"An unbreakable vow that any Hogwarts elf, given clothes, will be immediately accepted as bonded to the Ancient and Nobel House of Potter."

Goopy slowly nodded. It was a fair trade. While receiving clothes wasn't common, the fear of receiving clothes was constant and very real.

An ancient elf popped beside Goopy, bowed to Harry, and spoke in a deep raspy voice that sounded an inch away from the grave. "I is being Goody Young Sir. Goody has been serving Hogwarts for over fifty-five years. It would be an honor, as Goody's last act, to serve my fellow elves in death."

Harry bowed to the old elf. "Thank you Hufflepuff kitchen elf Goody. I am honored to receive your trade."

Goody gazed at Harry with eyes shrewd from years of bargaining on the mind family. "You is having many secrets Young Sir. For while you served under Tropsy, that is not saying how you is knowing all our positions."

Harry merely gave a small, if slightly sad, smile.

"I'm hoping to have everything ready several hours before curfew tonight. Is that acceptable?"

"It is."

After making the unbreakable vow to the head Hogwarts elf, with Goopy using his finger in lieu of a wand, Harry left the kitchens. He had just a few minutes to spare before potions with the Ravenclaws. It was time to find out what this world's Snape was like.

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Potions master Severus Snape knew he was cynical.

After a lifetime of watching the things he loved taken from him and being forced into indentured servitude, he would be the first to tell you life was a pile of crap, which grew beautiful roses, which then wilted and died.

His own beautiful flower had wilted and died ten years ago, but not before adding to the pile of crap that was about to dump itself on his life. It would be too much to hope that Harry light-shines-out-of-his-arse Potter took after anything from Lily. It was just a shame he couldn't be overly aggressive against him in class. There was rule one after all.

'I've no idea  _what_  the sorting hat thought it was playing at, putting a Potter in Slytherin.'

He stalked into his classroom and up to the front podium, cloak billowing around him, pausing briefly to stare at a bushy brown haired Ravenclaw girl, who was faintly illuminating the dungeon and looking more than a little embarrassed about it.

After reading from the register and desperately wanting, but resisting, to make a snarky comment when he called Potter's name, he began his carefully honed speech.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" He rounded on Harry, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

He glared at the spawn of the tormentor of his life, who had narrowed his eyes in concentration. They suddenly widened, looking mildly shocked, before a calm mask re-established itself over Potter's features.

"Thank you, Sir."

Snape's mind shut down.

"And as for the other thing, I believe it makes draught of living death."

"…"

Impossible. The test had been unfair, so very very unfair, and he'd passed it. Instantly.

Right in front of his eyes, the spawn of James Potter was slowly morphing into the son of Lily, until all he could see were her eyes looking back at him.

"… Well done… ," he briefly considered calling him Evans or Harry before realizing it would sound too weird. "…Potter." He finished, the words slow as icebergs. "Five points to Slytherin."

The rest of the class proceeded as expected, with the exception of a perfectly produced potion from Potter and an almost perfect one from the Granger girl. He'd harangued her about that, causing a mild panic as the girl's illumination suddenly faded and everyone struggled to see their delicate work in the newly darkened room.

[A/N: If you have no clue what just happened, google - 'Snape the language of flowers']

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"Harry, you can't keep on doing this!"

Draco had caught up to him outside potions and was whispering as urgently as he could.

"The whole of Slytherin house is going to be on your tail soon for helping Granger this morning, you need to make some kind of statement to show you understand rule one!"

"Rule one has been bastardized by those who have the foresight of a blind-worm. It's politically stupid to needlessly exclude three quarters of the entire population from alliance building efforts."

"…", "…Look, you want to make changes. OK, I get that. But wait until Carter's gone, and I'm the new King. Anyone with half a brain can see you're going to be top student in our year. You, combined with my family connections would make an unbeatable team.

Harry stopped walking and looked thoughtful. "Draco, I value our friendship, but for at least the next year, I'm going to be… away."

"Away? What do you mean, away?"

"I mean away, gone, unavailable, indisposed. But I will be back. And when I am, I'd be happy to talk about being a team."

"I don't understand."

"Just make sure you're in the common room tonight. Right now, I've got some important stuff to take care of. See you there." Harry hurried away.

"OK… I guess."

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[7:00pm]

Deep beneath the school, far deeper than the potions dungeon, in a damp and dark chamber known only to legend and one big ass snake, Harry Potter was brewing potions.

Thankfully, the basilisk was amicable and quite happy to have someone to talk to. It turned out this time she'd been named Alice, and Harry had promised to bring back livestock sometime in the next few weeks.

The iron cauldron he'd found earlier stood in front of him, the final stages of blood replenishing potion bubbling away. He was going to need a good number tonight.

Eventually, he was happy with his work, and ladled it out into vials, charmed them unbreakable and stored them on the floor. It would be nice when he could get some furniture down here.

After clearing a circle in the middle of the chamber of bones and detritus, Harry wound his way back down the path he'd come, up the stairs, and back into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Myrtle, who'd been absent on his arrival gasped when he appeared.

"You... You are!"

"Yes I am."

"The Master of Death!"

"Yes."

"!," she gave a little squeak.

"You will not tell anyone of my presence or status, either here tonight, or in the castle, or this world, nor anything that you've seen here now, or whenever I, or those working with me, are here in the future."

"Y-Y-Yes Master."

"Goody!"

Goody popped in front of Harry with *PoP*

"Goody is being here, Young Sir."

Harry nodded. "You ready?"

"Goody is being ready, Young Sir."

"Then lets go."

Back down in the chamber, Harry stripped naked and asked Goody to do the same, resisting the urge to shiver. It was quite cold down here.

He took the ritual dagger and made a clean cut on his body, wincing at the pain, and started draining his blood into vials, taking blood-replenishing potions regularly to stop himself getting faint, or worse.

Eventually, Goody lay down in the middle of the cleared space and Harry painted runes with his blood all over the elf's body, gradually extending the runes down to the floor and then outwards, creating complex patterns of stars and circles within more stars and circles.

The silence of the chamber become oppressive, the magic swirling around the ever-expanding runes added weight to the air. Water drops became drumbeats and ice extended tendrils from the circle to cover the previously damp floor.

After an hour of work, Harry picked up the ritual knife he'd been heating in the cauldron fire and turned towards the elf, painted from head to toe in the middle of the circle.

"Goody," his voice was soft, but amplified by the latent magic to fill the whole chamber. "Last chance to back out. We can clean you up, go back up to the kitchens, and have the vow broken by mutual agreement, if you don't want to continue?"

"Young Sir. Thanking you for option, but I have been given this chance to serve for many more years past my time and I will be taking it."

Harry nodded though knowing Goody couldn't see, and started to chant in Coptic. The goose bumps covering his naked body faded as magic poured into him in anticipation of what was to come.

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"But… I can't really afford a new broom." Ron mumbled.

"…Have you thought of making one?" Tammy asked.

"…"

"…"

"Making one?" Ron's voice was awe-stuck.

"Sure, that's what we're here in school for right? To learn magic, so we can do things like make brooms."

"…"

"…"

"That's… THE MOST AWESOME IDEA I'VE EVER HEARD!"

Tammy smiled. "So that's our goal? Learn enough so that by this time next year we'll both have brooms to try out for the team on?"

"OK!"

Tammy's smile widened to a full on grin, which suddenly died as a minor magical shockwave passed through the room.

"Whoa!"

"What?"

"What was that? Didn't you feel it?"

"No. What was it?"

"Not sure. I just could've sworn I felt something just then."

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In Dumbledore's office, the paddlewheel of a gizmo on the headmaster's desk spun violently as the magical shockwave hit it, before slowly settling down again.

The Headmaster, smiling and chuckling, reading Madam Pomfrey's report on the mystery illness that had swept the first year male population of two houses, didn't notice.

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"Quirrell!"

"Y-Y-Y-Yes Master?"

"How many times have I told you to sleep on your face or side?!"

"S-S-S-Sorry Master."

"Wait! What was that?"

"…"

"…"

"…Sorry Master."

"ARGHHHH!"

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"Seriously Su! Why does he have to be such a jerk! He's supposed to be a teacher! I had the best potion there, well apart from Harry, why did he pick on  _me_?!"

"…"

"Su? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"…"

"Su?"

"…"

"OH MY GOD! I GOT IT RIGHT!"

Hermione beamed.

"DAMN IT!"

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"So Fred, is she out and about?"

Fred was staring at the Marauder's map.

"Afraid not George… She's down in the common room with Ron."

"Rats."

"Yeah."

"Have to wait till the morning."

"Yeah… Um George." Fred's eyes widened slightly and a grin spread on his face."

"Yes, oh brother of mine?"

"Look whose in bed with our dear professor Quirrell."

"…"

"…"

"Oh. Oh! OH!"

"Yeahhh."

"Think we can use this?"

"I'm sure we can find a way," Fred breathed, his grin going full feral.

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"Neville…" Susan's voice was timid and worried, "You've been trying to change that matchstick for hours now. Maybe you should get some rest?"

"Grrrrrrrrr…"

"Ok… then. I guess another 20 minutes wouldn't hurt…" Susan backed away as one would from a wild animal.

Neville closed his eyes again and continued to focus on the faint feeling of his magic swirling through him. He began to wave his wand again and suddenly something foreign, something powerful, surged through him.

*Tinkle*

He blinked

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I DID IT! TAKE THAT YOU SON OF A DEAD TREE!

Neville fainted.

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Harry woke up from where he'd fallen when the magic had surged, washed in some conjured water, and put his clothes back on.

He looked around and focused on a point a few meters away. If this were the first time he'd done this, he'd have had to have spent several years learning to feel the new magic within him, several more to learn to control it, then another few to release it in just the right way. As it was, that wasn't necessary.

*Pop*

*Pop*

He disappeared with a very distinctive pop and reappeared with another pop a few meters away. Success.

Of cause, it wouldn't do to let everyone know he could do elf magic. That would just remove the advantage—anti-elf wards  _did_  exist after all—and people in the Department of Mysteries would start asking awkward questions about dark magic and blood rituals. Far better to disguise what he could do as something new, or something taken from the Potter family magic archive. That would give him legal protection and plausible deniability.

Harry focused on the spot he just came from and added a two second silencing spell around himself, a one second illusion of himself fading, and a two second invisibility spell to wear-off over one second on arrival. All wordless and wandless, of course. Merlin, he loved elf magic.

He silently faded from where he stood and silently faded in where he'd been standing before.

Nodding to himself, Harry walked over to where the now deceased Goody lay and, after also washing him, gently gathered him in his arms before focusing on the entrance in-front of the kitchens, and faded.

The kitchen elves received him well, taking Goody and popping the old elf to some unknown place.

He spent a few minutes snacking—he had missed dinner after all—and telling stories of his time with Tropsy, which they drank in like the dying gasps of a wild and  _very messy_ party.

He was putting off what he hoped to be the last encounter of the day, but he knew it had to happen. If he messed this up it would make things a  _lot_  harder in a few years time.

Harry took a deep breath and faded to his four-poster in the first-year's dorm room. There was no one there. He quickly packed up the few things he'd unpacked last night and shrank the trunk, shoving it into his pouch and fading to the entrance outside the Slytherin common room.

Game time.

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Draco was restless. It was getting late and Harry still hadn't shown. He wasn't the only one. Cole Spenser—Harry's 'mentor'—was waiting close to the common room portal, only half paying attention to his homework, shooting glances at the entrance, looking ready to AK the first person to walk through it.

The common room was full, many of them looking forward to seeing the Boy-Who-Lived taken down a peg or three. If they were lucky, maybe he'd even wind up in the hospital wing. Spenser was a viscous beater after all, known for his force more than his skill.

"The little blood traitor is getting what's coming to him," growled Nott from opposite him.

Draco remained silent.

"Please don't tell me you're siding with him!" Nott looked incredulous.

"I spoke with him earlier. It sounded like he had some kind of plan."

Nott just snorted. "Oh. How very  _Slytherin_  of him."

Greengrass and Davis were sitting quietly doing homework, not adding much, although they probably privately agreed with Nott, at least in that Harry was about to be smacked into the ground.

Draco knew if Harry tried to be clever, he certainly would be.

Pansy and Zabini were eagerly waiting for the entertainment to start, while Crabb, Goyle, and Millie, looked like they couldn't care less.

Just then the common room portal opened and the room fell silent.

The scrawny, short, black haired boy walked through the portal, nonchalant and unconcerned, left it open, took a good number of strides into the room, turned to Spenser and said, loud enough for everyone in the whole room to hear, "Hey there. I heard you wanted a chat?"

Spenser looked ready to pop a blood vessel. He stormed over to the portal slammed it hard, and turned to Harry, cutting off his only escape route.

Harry looked around before commenting "Ah, yes, nice and private. I like how the mentor system ensures potentially embarrassing matters can be handled with tact and discretion."

"SHUT UP POTTER!" Spenser took a moment to calm himself. "You've been getting friendly with mud bloods in other houses and helping those from outside to the detriment of our competitive position. You can't do that. It destroys the unity of the house and opens us up to attacks from those who are prejudiced against us."

"Whoa. That was almost convincing. How long did you spend rehearsing that?"

A couple of the watchers gasped. This was a lot of trash talking from someone who had absolutely  _no_  power of any kind to fall back on. He couldn't even use his position as Scion of an Ancient and Nobel house, as there was currently no Head.

Spenser growled. "Looks like you aren't going to listen to reason, so we'll apply some physical persuasion before we get back to talking." He closed the gap and swung with a fist, fully expecting to send the little twerp flying. Instead, he hit air, felt the tug on his robes, and then red-hot pain shot through his face as his head slammed into the ground.

Harry backed off towards the center of the room, waiting for Spenser to get up. Of course, in most fights you would NEVER let your opponent get up, but this wasn't most fights. It would do no good to beat Spenser without letting him come at him with everything everyone knew he had.

"Urh you little piece of dragon crap." Spenser spat, pushing himself to his feet, sporting a slight nosebleed. The onlookers had started to whisper among themselves and Harry spotted at least a few coins changing hands.

Spenser stormed back to his desk, clutching his nose, grabbed his beaters bat, one and a half feet of magically reinforced solid oak, wiped the blood off his hand, marched over to Harry and swung again.

Before Spenser could process what was happening, Harry had closed the distance, blocked the hand holding the bat, and thrust his free hand, palm first upwards into his chin, while twisting on his hand. Spenser felt the bat leave his grasp before pain, stars and white light shot through his head as his bat, now in Harry's hand, slammed into his skull like an amorous hippogryph's mating charge.

He fell. Hard. But wasn't knocked out. Wizards were pretty hardy after all.

Harry chucked the bat to the ground, over his shoulder. "Get up," he commanded, voice flat, distancing himself a few more meters. He was almost level with the King's couch now. The crowd was defiantly picking up the volume. This was far more interesting then watching a first year get his arse handed to him, not least because, even with a good showing, the kid still wasn't anywhere near out of the woods. Many of the witches who'd grown up with the boy-who-lived storybooks, were defiantly looking on with more than a little interest.

It took Spenser more than a full minute to get up this time, but, this time, when he marched back to his table, he brought out the big guns. This time, the stick of wood he drew from his bag had a magical core.

Harry's wand appeared in his hand from no-where.

"Ah, about time. I was beginning to forget we weren't muggles." Some of the crowd actually chuckled, probably thinking much the same. Spenser was facing Harry now, wand in hand, waiting to fully recover from the beating he'd just received.

Those seated behind Harry were moving out of the field of fire, not wanting to be caught by a stray hex, although some of the older snakes  _had_  started putting up dueling wards.

Draco was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes riveted on the spectacle in front of him. That muggle fighting had been damn impressive. Who'd have thought someone almost half the size of his opponent could clean the floor with him, even when armed. But now they were going for the wands. Harry was going to lose now. He was a first year. A first year with only  _one day_  of magical education. Even if he'd received under the table lessons, like he himself had, it still didn't change that his opponent had three more years of magical development.

Slowly, the noise of the onlookers died down, until the two were staring each other down in total silence.

Spenser moved first.

#Petrificus Totalus#

Harry actually had to stop himself from gaping as the spell shot towards him. Oh, the utter arrogance of it. Spenser obviously intended to finish the duel in one spell, and didn't think Harry was going to do _anything_  to try and stop him, despite the fact that he'd not once failed to back-up his confidence. The spell was slow, clunky, and left no good follow up.

Harry sidestepped the spell and fired a standard beginner's spell chain.

#Reducto# #Stupefy# #Deprimo# #Expelliamus# #Incarcerous#

Spenser, shocked that he was actually being attacked, dodged the reducto by a hair, threw up a shield a split second before the stupefy slammed into it, absorbing it fully, but  _not_  the deprimo, which smashed through the shield, blasting him backwards, before the expelliamus ripped his wand from his hand and his body was bound with tight ropes from the incarcerous.

A good portion of the crowd was shouting now. Some were cheering, some were unhappy, but many were gazing at Harry with very calculating looks.

Harry threw Spenser's wand over his shoulder just as he done the bat, walked up to his bound enemy and pointed his wand at his legs. The noise died again and the room held its breath.

#Reducto# #Reducto# #Exomento# #Castreo# #Stupefy# #Ossio Dispersimus#

Two broken legs, a forced and violent bowl movement, a swift magical kick to the crotch, a good old-fashioned stunner, and the broken bones vanished.

Spenser cried out in pain, before passing out.

Many people in the seats surrounding the main event were now busily re-evaluating their opinion of the Boy-Who-Lived. He was supposed to be light wasn't he? Light wizards didn't torture bound and helpless opponents.

"Looks like he needs medical attention. Miss Tuft?" He called to a sixth year witch "I believe you are training to be a healer."

Abigale Tuft looked towards Carter, who'd been sitting in the King's lounge by the central fireplace, watching the show intently. Carter gave a small nod to her before turning back towards Harry.

He gazed at Harry, appraising him, weighing all aspects of his value—physical, social, financial, intellectual, magical.

"An impressive showing Potter. Truly. I don't think I can think of a single other first year who could've possibly defeated a fourth year of Spenser's level on his first day of school. I doubt even the Dark Lord could've managed it." Carter's comment produced shocked gasps from around the room. "Of course, this doesn't change anything. There are rules in this house that must be obeyed. But you have defiantly proven yourself as one to watch, both now and in the future. Accept the rules of the house, and I will grant you a position near the very top of the Slytherin table."

More gasps.

Draco's mind was going a mile a minute. Harry had won. He'd actually won. Against a forth year. And it didn't look like it had even been difficult. And now, this. It was the best deal Harry could've possibly gotten.

Harry smiled. "One moment if you would. I'd just like to check up on one of those rules… Baron!"

The Bloody Baron faded into being nearby looking very annoyed.

"Who the hell has the cheek to summon me?!"

"I do," said Harry simply.

The Baron looked at him before his eye's widened. "You are-!"

"-SILENCE! You will not reveal my secrets!"

The Baron shut up, much to the shock of the other students.

"I have called you here because I wish to declare King's Coup."

Total Uproar.

Everyone was shouting. Mostly at Harry. Although many of the younger students were turning to their older peers and asking "King's what?"

Draco's mind froze in abject horror at the words being parsed through it.

No. Harry had not just said that. He COULDN'T have just said that.

No one had been brain-dead stupid enough to call King's Coup for a hundred years. It was supposed to be used when the  _vast_  majority of the house was  _very_  unhappy with the leadership of the current king. It gave those who declared loyalty to the coup, the right to actively fight against the king, to attempt to expel him from the house by force. It was so rarely used because if you declared King's coup and didn't get the support needed to succeed, you'd be the one exiled from the house, forced to wonder the castle, homeless, until such time as you could persuade the house to let you in again, which, as the rebel leader, was probably never. Your reputation would be eternally damaged. You'd be considered worse than a blood traitor, worse than a mud-blood, worse than a  _muggle_. If you were unhappy with a King, it was almost always better to wait until the current one left, or you graduated.

What the HELL was Harry thinking?!

The Baron waved for silence.

Carter was looking at Harry like he'd grown four heads and a tail. But behind the shock, the rage was building.

"Who stands with the rebel leader against the King?" the Baron asked.

No one stood, moved, or said anything.

"Then I declare the zero people who came forward followers of the rebel leader. Let the coup commence!"

"HEX HIM TO HELL!" Carter Screamed.

Well over a hundred wands were leveled at Harry, who smiled. The first dozen spells past straight through him and before any more even got close, he was gone.

"BLOCK OFF THE ENTRANCE AND STAIRS! DON'T LET HIM OUT OF THE COMMON ROOM! USE CHALK POWDER SPELLS TO FIND HIM! GO TO HIS ROOM, BRING HIS STUFF DOWN HERE, AND BURN IT! WHEN I FIND THAT MUDBLOOD BASTARD!…

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Outside the room of requirement Harry paced while thinking, 'I need a place to sleep and relax specifically for Harry Potter's and welcome guest's use only'.

The door appeared and he walked in, greeted by the sight of a fully furnished, luxurious bedroom, complete with entertaining area, dinning room, and ensuite bathroom. Harry smiled. This would more than do until he could get the chamber furnished and under fidelius.

He cast some basic, and some not so basic, low power wards over the door, slipped off his clothes, slipped on his pyjamas, and snuggled under the thick and fluffy duvet covers.

Now, he just had to watch out for the few people who decided to get over zealous and target his friends outside Slytherin. There wouldn't be many of them. The illusion of house unity still had to be maintained after all, but they would have to be dealt with, and firmly enough to send a clear message.

It was certainly convenient that, in King's Coup, just like in the ritual of choosing the King, he was officially sanctioned to cause as much damage to his opponents as needed, so long as it wasn't irreversible or fatal. No inconvenient questions from his head of house. Snape would even be obligated to shield him from the other teachers and Madam Pomfrey, if caught in an embarrassing situation.

Of course, everyone in Slytherin would be gunning for him with the same rules.

Harry vaguely wondered whether a certain black haired witch would appreciate what he was doing. Had Tammy been through the Slytherin school of hard knocks and come out as Queen? Or was that King? Everyone agreed that the Voldemort in this world was male. Was she nothing more than Tom's daughter? Perhaps with Bellatrix? But… that name. Tammy… and the wordless magic she had shown at breakfast. That  _should_  be sixth year stuff. And if she  _was_  Voldemort, what was behind Quirrell's turban? Could she be a reborn horcrux? If Tammy was a horcrux why was she female? And younger than 16? Gender switch ritual? De-aging magics? What about her personality? You could only attribute so much to magic before you had to admit you were probably missing something far simpler. It all seemed far too convoluted.

Well, the question of what was behind Quirrell's turban could be answered easily at least.

Harry turned over and faded into sleep, thoughts alternating between Tammy and another girl who'd done something new…the chocolate-eyed witch whose face had so often lit up his world, and now seemed to be doing so literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who follows, comments, and kudoses! You keep me motivated to write more and keep me accountable to my errors! Thank you!
> 
> A/N: I can't remember where I first came across the idea of a house elf telepathy network, but I know it wasn't my idea originally.
> 
> A/N: If you don't know the hidden meaning behind Snape's first question to Harry, Google "Snape the language of flowers"
> 
> A/N: Spell chaining courtesy of A-Badgers-Champion and A-Champion-s-New-Hope on fanfiction.net


	6. The Second Day: Part One

_**[3** **rd** **September 1991 - Early Morning]** _

Draco stumbled past the guards, still stationed at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and out to the corridor. Last night had been insane. He'd spent most of it waiting for the inevitable news that Harry had been captured, and was being prepared for as-near-as-permanent-as-possible residence in the hospital wing, but it hadn't happened. Somehow, he'd escaped.

Not only that, but only minutes after his dramatic disappearance, the sixth years had come down from the boys first-year dorms, to announce that all of Potter's stuff had already gone.

That had caused a ripple of consternation and grudging admiration throughout the common room. Even if Slytherin as a whole was incensed with Potter's behavior, they could still appreciate a well thought out and executed plan. It was just too bad that Potter's strategic capabilities were not at the level of his tactical ones.

He was now persona-non-gratis in Slytherin and, outside of a few comments in class, there was no way to continue their friendship. Harry had been right, he was 'going away', but the idea that in a year, he'd be back, was inconceivable. What did he want to do? Eject the entire of Slytherin house all by himself?

He'd have to owl his father to ask for advice.

Draco frowned.

But he still didn't have any updates on Tammy. His father had owled him yesterday saying she was almost certainly a relative, possibly even the daughter, of the Dark Lord, and the most likely mother would have been his aunt, Bellatrix, possibly making Tammy his cousin. That had floored him. He'd gone on to write that she should be treated with utmost respect and diffidence, regardless of her house, and that should he encounter any opportunity to aid or help her, he should take it, regardless of rule one.

He had DADA with Tammy later that day… that should give a good opportunity to reach out to her. Then he could write the owl.

Thoughts filled with the tall, dark haired witch, who'd hissed in his ear, Draco sauntered up to breakfast.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

"Hey Fred," called George from the foot of Fred's bed.

"Yes George?" Fred replied, still wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Where'd you put the map last night?"

"Umm. Should be in my trunk's secret compartment, like it always is."

"It's not there."

"What?" Fred sounded alarmed. He leapt from his four-poster, and started to shift through the associated detritus around his space with no luck.

"Maybe Lee borrowed it?"

"Maybe… but he wouldn't just take it without asking first."

"If it wasn't Lee, then we may have ourselves a thief."

The twins looked at each other, this was not good.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Professor McGonagall sighted the two red haired terrors as they descended the stairs from their dorms.

"Messers Weasley and Weasley. Please come here," her voice was sharp and clearly annoyed.

The twins, wondering what they'd been caught for, looked at each other before marching over and standing to theatrical attention in front of their head of house.

"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to speak to you immediately regarding your absolutely unacceptable stunt yesterday. The password is gum drops, and I for one, must say I am VERY disappointed in your actions."

The twin's mouths dropped. In the two years they'd been at Hogwarts, they'd never once been summoned to the headmaster's office. Surely they hadn't done anything that bad yesterday had they?

"Um, Professor…" Fred started, "are you sure there's not been a misunderstanding here?"

McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Don't you DARE try to wriggle out of it. -No," she cut off George who'd been opening his mouth to speak, "Your actions caused over thirty first-year students to miss their whole first day of classes. That. is. beyond. a joke!"

The twins just stared, wide eyed, and slack jawed.

"Well? Get a move on."

The twins started for the common room door. Obviously, they'd been accused of something they hadn't done. Oh well. It was an occupational hazard of being a full time prankster. Luckily, they knew they could rely on Dumbledore to figure out the truth. The man was scary like that sometimes.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Dumbledore still looked disappointed.

"And that is why I am have no other choice but to assign you detentions every night for the next month, take fifty points from Gryffindor, remove Hogshead privileges for the rest of the year, owl your parents about your behavior, and require you to personally apologize to every student that wound up in the hospital wing."

"But-but…but."  
"But-but…but."

"I know you two enjoy finding unusual outlets for your talents and skills, but your actions yesterday could have had very real long term consequences for those involved," he looked from one twin to the other, every wrinkle on his face expressing his sadness and disappointment that two such fine, outstanding members of young wizarding society, could so profoundly misjudge the line between playful jokes and getting innocent people hurt.

"But…but…but.  
"But…but…but.

"Your first detention will be cleaning the trophy room with Filch, tonight at 7:00pm. You will report to Professor McGonagall every day at 7:00 after that to be assigned that nights detention."

"But. But. Buuut…"  
"But. But. Buuut…"

"Off you both go now," he turned to look out the window across the grounds, "I'm sure you will not be wanting to miss breakfast on top of all your other troubles."

The two twins looked at each other, shoulders slumped, defeated, and slunk out the door.

As soon as the door closed, the headmaster chuckled. It was so useful having people like the Weasley twins around. He'd have to make sure Molly didn't overreact too much. It wouldn't do to actually have them removed from school after all, but this certainly did get Minerva off his back about yesterday's mini epidemic.

Still looking amused, the headmaster walked back to his desk and unpacked his latest purchase from the muggle world. It was an A2 poster, which he cheerfully stuck to the wall behind his throne, clearly visible to all who visited him. The poster had a black background with a white border and showed a colony of bees fending off an attack by a swarm of wasps. Dead bees festooned the entrance to the hive, but the wasps were very clearly losing. The caption under the picture read: 'THE GREATER GOOD - Because we all have to make little sacrifices'.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

_**[Breakfast]** _

"Lets face it, brother of mine," Fred Weasley began, "this morning hasn't been the greatest."

"That's an understatement oh brother of mine," answered George.

They were walking into the great hall, which by now was packed.

They spotted a pair of very inviting empty seats at the Gryffindor table and made a beeline for them.

The twins sat down and Fred grabbed a fork, which instantly slid out of his hand and dropped on the table with a clink.

Fred looked at his hand, surprised while George was trying and failing to pick up a spoon.

"Umm… George," Fred started, a feeling of dread creeping up his spine, "it's just occurred to me where we're sitting."

George looked up. A familiar black-haired, first-year witch was silently watching them from several seats away, her slate grey eyes danced with mirth.

"Ah. Damn," George grimaced.

"Hey Tammy!" Fred called, "how long is this going to last for?"

George was now trying to pick up a plate by carefully lifting it at a 90 degree angle to the table, which worked, until he tried to tip some of the food onto his plate, whereupon the whole plate slid out of his grasp and onto his plate, leaving him with a carefully selected breakfast of two dozen hard boiled eggs.

"I really don't know what you mean," Tammy replied, "After all, I'm just a feisty, little-lady, firsty."

"Errr. right." Fred suddenly looked even more uncertain.

Over the next 15 minutes, the twins furthered the noble art of eating, sans hands, to the general dismay of their fellow Gryffindors. Ron, in particular, looked disgusted, until someone pointed out this was what  _he_  looked like while eating.

The second youngest Weasley looked down at the half finished breakfast he'd been shoveling down his gob, and carefully started cutting up his sausages like a proper pureblood, much to the relief of those sitting around him.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Hermione was sitting at the front of the classroom, next to her friend Su, waiting for their history teacher, who she'd been told was a ghost(!), to arrive and start imparting man's greatest treasure. Although, why Rowena Ravenclaw would specify men was lost to her, unless she'd simply been making a comment on what she found attractive.

"Hermione Granger, good morning."

Hermione looked around to see the girl who'd offered to help her find Neville's toad on the train.

"Oh, Good morning, errr..," she struggled for the name.

"Tammy, Tammy Riddle," Tammy smiled, "Don't worry about it, although you should probably know that forgetting someone's name is probably the worst insult you could ever give someone in the wizarding world."

"err… I'm-I'm sorry." Hermione looked down at the desk, her good mood rapidly fading. She knew she wasn't the best with people, but it always hurt when it was pointed out to her.

"Like I said, don't worry about it. Most pureblood children are given name and face memorization training since they started to talk."

The girl sat down next to her.

"I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" The Ravenclaw girl looked up.

"Me and a friend are thinking of starting a long term project to build a broom. I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining at some point in the future?"

Hermione looked confused, and slightly suspicious. "Build a broom? Why are you asking me?"

"Well rumor has it you and your Slytherin boyfriend-" Hermione choked, "-really impressed Professor McGonagall in transfiguration. They're already calling you a prodigy you know. And building a broom is hard."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Hermione all but shrieked.

"What? Of cause he is."

The majority of the class had quieted now and was listening in.

"No he isn't! Why are you saying that?" her face reddened.

"He's a Slytherin," Tammy stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "the only way he'd get away with being your friend, especially as a muggleborn, is if you were in a relationship."

"Well, we're not!"

Tammy frowned. She'd seen Potter sitting at the Ravenclaw table during breakfast, chatting happily away to Granger.

"Well… I should probably tell you that the only way he could have not ended up in the hospital wing last night, after curfew, is if he claimed you as his girlfriend."

"WHAT?!… wait, what do you mean, end up in the hospital wing?"

"Slytherin house has a strict no-helping-people-outside-the-house policy, which they enforce with force if needed."

"That's barbaric!"

"Yeah, well… welcome to pureblood politics."

Hermione was looking at Tammy half in disbelief and half panic.

"…You…You really think he said that?"

"I don't see any other way he's still walking around."

"How do you know all this anyway?" Hermione accused, "aren't you muggleborn, like me?"

"Probably yeah, muggle raised anyway. But I do like to read a lot."

"So do I," Hermione shot back, "what books are you reading?"

"Um… 'Modern Wizarding Customs'…"

"Read it."

'A Muggleborn's Guide to the Magical World?'

"Read it."

"umm…"

Tammy was saved from Hermione's inquisition when Professor Binns glided through the blackboard, and immediately started roll call. She mentally sighed in relief. Hermione Granger was altogether far too sharp. The last thing she needed was for it to get out that she had any kind of connection to Voldemort. That would be really bad.

She glanced over at the bushy-haired, future-genius, whose face was still flaming-red, equal parts angry and mortified.

Looked like it was just going to be her and Ron for a while then…

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

"There, look."

"Where?"

"The Slytherin on his own."

"On his own? Slytherins are  _never_  on their own."

"Wearing the glasses."

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

"Did you see him disappear into thin air at the end of class?"

"I heard he's a shadow mage and can leap through the darkness."

"I heard he's heir of all four houses and can apparate through the wards."

"I heard he's a phoenix animagus and can travel by flame."

"Why wasn't there any fire then?"

"Duh, it was obviously invisible fire."

The whispers that followed Harry the day before were nothing compared to what he was getting now he'd started fading from place to place. Without accurate information of what had happened in the Slytherin common room, which rule one restricted, the rumors were getting wilder and wilder.

This was of little concern though. The general thrust of the rumors was accurate, and he'd been summoned to the headmaster's office for the second time in as many days. Deep in the back of his mind, Harriet put up her feet and grabbed a box of popcorn. It was time, again, to play mental balderdash.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Ron and Tammy had a free period, and were sitting in a quiet corner of the Gryffindor common room, discussing their plans over a casual game of chess. Ron was winning, much to Tammy's annoyance.

"So, what are we going to need to do first?" Ron asked.

"I think we should do a double attack on both the theory and the application."

"You think one of us should specialize in theory and one in application?"

Tammy picked up her knight and took a lone pawn.

"Nah, two pieces forking is better," she smiled.

Ron looked down at the new position and frowned.

"How long will it be until we can do our first application?" He continued to move his pieces as she moved hers.

"Depends on how long it will take to get the materials, we can sneak out to the forest for wood. As for the tools… I think I know where we can get them. Our first application isn't going to be impressive though, testing out basic levitation runes, that sort of thing."

"So, we're definitely going to have to use runes?"

"Oh yeah, thank Merlin."

"Huh?"

"Well, runes don't use wands right? At least, for the most part. They absorb magic from the materials they use or from the surroundings, or directly from a wizard's touch, so we can continue our project even through the summer."

Ron looked up, shocked.

"You mean we can do rune stuff at home? It's not against the law?"

"Nope. Only wand magic is illegal for minors. Otherwise, you'd never be allowed to use any of the stuff in your house, or children's toys, or, well… anything."

Ron grinned. "This is going to be awesome."

"Isn't it."

"So, what's the first step?" Ron asked.

"We should probably head down to the library and try to put together a map of the subjects we're going to be tackling. Kind of like a quidditch player formation map, but with subjects instead of players."

Ron frowned, "OK. I guess I can picture that."

"We can go after DADA this afternoon."

Ron grimaced. "DADA's with the Slytherins, right?"

"Oh, yes," Tammy grinned, "What?" she nudged Ron's arm playfully from across the table, "aren't you excited to meet the famous Harry Potter?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "Yeah… but… he's a Slytherin. But… he's also the-boy-who-lived."

"Not all Slytherins are bad you know."

Ron looked up at her, disbelieving.

"The sorting hat really wanted to put me in Slytherin you know."

Ron gaped. "No way! There's no way you could ever be a Slytherin! You're way too cool for that."

Tammy raised an eyebrow.

"I-I mean…" Ron's ears reddened.

"Knight to c6."

Ron looked down at the board, mouth open. His king was now pinned, and his queen and rook, forked.

"You… you sneaky witch."

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

_**[Lunchtime]** _

"Ah, Harry, Do please come and sit down, my boy."

"Hello Headmaster. To what do I owe this summons?" He glanced at the poster now hanging behind the headmasters throne and stifled a snort of laughter.

"Harry, what is this rumor that says you can apparate within the school?"

"Sir? Surely you don't pay attention to the rumors of school children?"

"Harry. The ability to move instantly from place to place represents a large safety and security concern. Not to mention the fact that you are underage and unlicensed to apparate."

"Well. For what its worth Headmaster, you have my assurances that I don't apparate."

"…"

"…"

"Do you do anything else Harry?"

"Oh yes, many things… I eat, I sleep, I go to classes-"

"-Harry."

"Oh, you mean do I have another method of instant transportation. Yes."

"…"

"…"

"…"

Dumbledore sighed. This was like extracting teeth from a live thestral. "What is that method Harry?"

"I can't tell you Headmaster."

"Why not?"

Harry kept his face perfectly straight. "It is another power that he knows not."

"!"

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Albus Dumbledore leaned back on his throne and rubbed his temples.

The boy had just left, vacant eyed, and potioned to the maximum safely allowable.

Apparently the instant transportation ability was a Potter family spell, which, from a legal standpoint, was frustrating, but would explain a lot about how James Potter had been able to pull off many of his stunts. But Harry shouldn't have access to the Potter Grimoire. It was in the Potter vault at Gringotts, and Harry wouldn't have access until he was 17. Not even  _he_  could access it.

The boy-seer had regained many of the memories Albus had wiped from him just two days ago, gained a few new ones, and didn't seem affected by the potions he'd dosed him with.

That should  _not_  be possible.

The ghosts were refusing to report to him on the boy, for some reason.

The paintings were seeing little as he now 'faded' everywhere.

At least he'd managed to erase that little trick from the boys mind… but… if he got it back again…

Albus Dumbledore started to sweat as he realized what an uncontrollable Harry Potter could mean.

No. That was ridiculous. The child was only eleven. Besides. He'd heard from Severus this morning about what happened in the Slytherin common room last night.

Despite his mounting unease, Albus chuckled. Harry had alienated his entire house in the worst way possible. All that seer knowledge had obviously missed out a lot of important context, or he'd have realized what a large mistake he was making. After a few months of being excluded and hunted down by his peers, the boy would be desperate and then he, Albus Dumbledore, could step in to offer him help.

Then he could get Harry back to where he needed to be for the boy's own good. Thank Merlin. The boy was starting to cause him more unease than Miss Riddle.

Why couldn't he be more like his other pet project? The Longbottom boy had already formed a good relationship with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, at least, and it had only been one day so far. It wasn't enough, of cause, but it was a very good start. All it had taken was a little push in the right direction, and a little clearing of the way.

Dumbledore smiled and popped a lemon drop.

'I wonder if it might not be a good idea to accelerate my plans a bit…'

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Ashley Atkins sat at her usual place at the Slytherin table in the great hall, and severed herself lunch, trying not to attract too much attention.

The sorting hat had warned her about the troubles she'd face as a muggleborn, if she stuck to her guns and insisted on being sorted into the house of the cunning and ambitious. She'd paid them no heed and now she was paying the price.

No one from the other houses would give her the time of day, and no one from her house would either. During those times when her fellow Slytherins did pay attention to her, it was to bully her, or to demand she do their work for them, or do chores, such things as befitted her 'station in life'.

'Just four more years. One day at a time,' she told herself. It was all she could tell herself right now.

When Harry Potter had stood up to that bastard Spenser, who'd spent the whole of last year alternatingly putting her down, and trying to get into her knickers, she'd been one of those standing and cheering.

When Potter had gone on to give the entire house the figurative middle finger and declare war on it, she'd wanted to cheer, but didn't dare to. Now  _that_  was bravery. And ambition. Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Of course, Potter was now exiled and would never be coming back. That's what happened in the real world when people without power took on those who had it. Ashley looked down at her plate, resigned and bitter, and stabbed at her roast potatoes with all the grace and poise of the mudblood she knew herself to be.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

After rehabilitating himself from visiting the headmaster and grabbing a quick meal in the kitchens, Harry, the halfblood Slytherin with seemingly Gryffindor tendencies, walked towards the DADA classroom.

Tammy and Quirrellmort in the same room.

He'd checked the map this morning, after liberating it from the twins, and there was no doubt about it. Quirrell had Tom Riddle on the back of his head, just like usual.

He rounded a corner and met a group of Slytherin upper years who scowled at him, and began to draw their wands. Before any could cast a spell though, Harry faded beyond the next corner and continued on as though he'd just stepped over a fallen bag.

The map also confirmed that Tammy was, in fact, Tammy. No polyjuice or glamour nonsense going on. She was currently sitting in the front of the classroom with Ron, only a half-dozen meters away from Tom.

Well… There should be one sure fire method to test whether Tammy was Voldemort. Hardcore purebloods didn't really go in for handshakes, but hand kisses between pureblood wizards and witches were still quite common. So long as he didn't grip too hard, the burning should be only mild. If the worse came to the worse and both Tammy and Tom attacked him, he'd fade to Dumbledore and fade them both back.

Harry hurried through the classroom door and made his way to the front of the class, just as his fellow Slytherins were rounding the opposite hallway corner.

Tammy was there, deep in conversation with his sometimes-close friend, Ron Weasley. She… sort of looked like a Black from the back… she had the right hair, long, straight, and midnight… well… black.

Harry thumped down onto the bench and slid down until he was an arms length away.

"Hello there," he smiled.

Tammy turned, she looked surprised.

"Harry Potter, scion of the ancient and noble house of Potter, heir apparent of the most ancient and noble house of Black."

And, without waiting for a reply, he kept looking into those dark grey eyes and reached for her hand. And their fingers touched.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

_**[A few minutes before Harry arrived]** _

Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was puzzled, and confused, and suspicious, and trying to be as cautious as possible. It felt like a losing battle.

When the sorting hat had announced a Tammy Riddle, his first instincts had been to grab Quirrell's eyes and legilimens the heck out of the girl. It had only been decades of Slytherin politics, and surviving among the most dangerous wizards in the world that had staid his metaphorical hand, and let him realize what this probably was. A trap.

He knew he didn't have a daughter, or granddaughter, or anything. And if, by some incredible circumstances, he did, they certainly wouldn't be wandering around with the name Riddle.

Dumbledore knew he was after the stone. He also knew, Dumbledore knew that he knew the stone was now at Hogwarts. It would be well within character for the old fool to setup some incentives for Voldemort to draw attention to himself. He'd chosen well. A female Gryffindor student called Tammy Riddle had certainly almost done it. But no. He wouldn't be fooled by such things.

But now…

He was standing at the front of the DADA classroom, making full use of Quirrell's body, and staring at this—he glanced down at the attendance sheet again—Miss Tammy Merope Riddle.

The trap, which was the only way he could think of the girl, was talking to a Weasley and seemed to be good friends with it.

She looked so much like him, it was eerie. Those eyes, slate grey, and that face, the muggle aristocratic features that melded so perfectly with pureblood femininity. On him it had looked striking and imposing. On her… it looked ethereal with a hint of sharpness, like some kind of Black/Lovegood cross. Even as an eleven year old, it was clear she was going to grow up to be the kind of witch wizards fought duels over.

It was so tempting… It's not like there was anyone else of consequence around…

Very cautiously, Tom reached out with the most gentle legilamcy probe he could, and brushed against the girls mind.

He encountered almost no resistance, felt the excitement and anticipation for the start of class, and the interest in her current conversation.

He pushed a little, gently sinking into her unprotected mind. Some of her recent memories flashed across his consciousness; a plot to build a broom, an argument about Potter's love life, a particularly humiliating chess match.

He pushed further, looking for clues as to her life before Hogwarts, and was shocked.

Memories of the orphanage, _his_  orphanage, shot through his mind; the annoyance of having to do chores, the fear of the older children who'd bully her, the frustration of not being able to afford new makeup and clothes, like those girls in the magazines.

Tom Riddle pulled out of the girl's mind so quickly he actually took a step backwards.

What. the. hell.

**\- W:PSBPnIoFP -**

Tammy didn't react when she felt the legilimency probe. She'd been expecting it from the moment she'd walked into the classroom. It was actually surprising just how much restraint the insane bastard was showing. Tammy didn't like remembering her first life, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't have been able to restrain herself in this situation. It would be far too big an insult to original Voldemort's pride. Children were one of things original Voldemort loathed. Not just in the normal manner of disliking their behavior, but for what they symbolized. The immortality of life, in exchange for the mortality of the individual. The idea that he'd unknowingly had a child would be too much.

Behind her undetected occlumency shields, Tammy smirked when the Tom Riddle in front of her recoiled from some of the more feminine memories, from what looked like his own upbringing. Femininity was another thing original Voldemort couldn't stand, seeing it as weak and submissive, mistakenly believing the two to be the same thing.

Original Voldemort could never understand the satisfaction to be had from willingly submitting to a worthy power. That misunderstanding partly explained why he'd turned into such a monster. He forgot that people would follow him for reasons other than fear and hate.

Bellatrix had been the perfect example, totally submissive to her lord and master… and no one ever called  _her_  weak.

"It smells awfully like garlic in here," Ron whispered, trying not to let his voice carry to the teacher's desk.

"Yeah, I heard the professor had a bad run in with a vampire once," Tammy replied, trying not to grin as Quirrell regained control of his body after Tom had retreated from the pre-teen horrors of Tammy's head.

"You think we'll be learning to defend against them?"

"Nah, that's NEWT level material. We'll be starting out slow, although, if my suspicions are correct, we probably won't be learning to cast any actually spells with this guy."

"What? But, don't we have to cast spells in the exam at the end of the year?"

"Most likely, Yes."

Ron frowned. "That doesn't seem right."

"It's not. If I'm right, we'll probably have to do some practice outside of class, but if we want to go into the forest for our  _real_  project, it would probably be a good idea to learn some defensive spells anyway."

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, remembering their need for wood, "good idea."

They waiting a few moments while the time to the start of class ticked away.

"The Slytherins are almost late," Tammy commented.

"Yeah, well, Potter will be on time. I'm just waiting for him to apparate in."

Tammy looked unconvinced. "Yeah, I've heard those rumors. I've no idea where they came from. You can't apparate inside Hogwarts grounds. The wards won't let you."

"Well… he  _is_  the boy-who-lived. He's already done impossible things right? Maybe this is just another of them."

Tammy scoffed. "Look, I know it might be nice to ascribe godlike powers to him, but he  _was_  only a baby when that thing with Vol- err… you-know-who happened. He's not just going to suddenly appear next to you."

Ron nodded to the space behind her, an amused smile playing across his face.

"Hello there," came a cheerful voice from behind her.

Tammy turned, caught out, and found herself looking into a pair of familiar killing-curse green eyes, ones she'd not seen this close for over a thousand years. They seemed to bore into her soul, but she couldn't detect so much as a trace of legilimency. Before, whenever she'd looked into those eyes, they'd been filled with hate and fear, now, they were full of life and confidence, twinned with a disarming smile.

"Harry Potter, scion of the ancient and noble house of Potter, heir apparent of the most ancient and noble house of Black."

And before she knew what was happening, Tammy felt the warm grasp of his hand on hers and… the world went weird.

She felt something pulling at her, something deep. Those emerald green eyes, which had been full of confidence, now registered shock. The smile had vanished. The pulling was becoming more defined and the feeling was familiar, it had traces of a dementor's kiss. It felt like her very soul was being shifted and moved around, like a small part of it was being pulled towards the boy sitting in front of her.

Tammy started to panic, she tried to let go of Potter's hand but her muscles weren't listening to her. The tug on her soul continued, but something was stopping it. It wasn't moving any further. Wasn't bridging the gap between herself and him. Focusing all her will into her occlumency, she bit down on her own tongue, hard, and was rewarded with a stabbing pain, which broke whatever was holding her.

Tammy wrenched her gaze and hand away from his, and shoved herself back into Ron, knocking him off the end of the bench.

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed, "What was that for?"

Potter was still looking at her in shock, and… was that a hint of glee?

"We're moving. Now," she stated.

"What? What for? What happened?" Ron protested.

"Later," she hissed, grabbing her bag and making her way to the back of the room, as far away from Potter as possible.

What the hell had that been? Tammy was shaking. The closest thing she'd experienced to this had been that one time a dementor had tried to kiss her, but this certainly hadn't been that. When a dementor kissed someone, the soul resisted, tried to fight it. This though... her soul felt like it was willingly reaching out, desperately stretching its arms through the bars of an internal prison. It was terrifying.

Tammy didn't have a clue what was going on, but there was one thought niggling at the back of her mind, which she could now confirm as true. This Harry Potter was definitely different to the one she used to know.


	7. The Second Day: Part Two

Ron and Tammy were packing up their stuff at the end of DADA when Professor Quirrell called to them.

"E-E-Excuse me, M-Miss R-R-Riddle, I was w-wondering if I could have a q-q-quick word with you. mm?"

Ron looked at Tammy, who shrugged.

"Go on ahead, I'll catch up to you soon," she suggested.

Ron nodded and exited the classroom, heading down the hallway to where he was fairly sure the library was. He'd continually tried to ask Tammy what had happened to make her react like that before class, but she'd refused to talk about it. He was certain Potter had done something to her…no good snake, er.. boy-who-lived, er….

…Snake-who-lived!

He hurried through the castle and soon found himself in front of the large double doors to the entrance of the single largest library in magical Britain, and possibly, the world.

The aspiring broom maker cautiously opened the door and peeked around it. The space beyond led to a central circular clearing, which he all but tiptoed to. Desks surrounded the space, and behind the desks, bookshelves stretched out in every direction, like spokes on the wheel of a giant carthorse. Every so often, he would glimpse a nook containing a few armchairs and a low table. It was all… so… big and alien.

Ron Weasley felt like those times he'd gone clothes shopping with Ginny and they'd entered the girl's section. Every fixture, every item on display, every look given by the people already there, it all screamed 'You-don't-know-what-the-hell-you're-doing-and-you-don't-belong-here!-Get-out!'.

He looked around, as though to find a clue on where he should start. Perhaps a sign that would say, "Broom Making Section: This way —>," but there was nothing.

He walked to the first random shelf on the random right hand side and pulled out a random book.

**' _Advanced Theories of Didactic Transfiguration: An Applied Approach'_**

Ron shook his head, put the book back, and tried another.

**' _A History of Transfiguration: From Duclaides to Dumbledore'_**

Again, not what he was looking for. After pulling out a few more random books, Ron started to realize something; all the books on this shelf were about transfiguration.

'OK,' he thought, 'I guess that makes sense. So, I need to find the section that does have what I need…' He remembered Tammy mentioning they'd need to use Runes. 'So, I guess I'll start by finding that section.'

Thirty minutes later, head feeling full from skimming book titles, he finally found the runes section.

The first few books he pulled out made him want to shrivel up and die. They all looked… so… complicated. Hundreds of pages of runes and complex geometric diagrams, interspersed with dozens of arithmancy equations full of symbols he'd no clue the meaning of.

Desperate, he reached out for the thinnest book on the shelf and found himself looking at  _'101 projects for the young rune master'._

Ron flipped open the book to the first page and ran his eyes down the list of chapters. And there, in the middle of the page, was a line that made his eye's light up like a fairy at Christmas.

_**How to Rune a Children's Toy Broomstick from Scratch** _

Tammy had talked about finding good early game moves… This, looked like a really good early game move.

He flipped to the chapter and read.

_**This chapter is best read in conjunction with a standard beginner's runes textbook.** _

Ron looked along the long line of books and realized he didn't have a clue what the Hogwart's standard runes textbook was. Who would know? Well… The librarian probably would, if he could find her.

Clutching his new prize, he wandered the library for another few minutes until he spotted a pair of adult witches sitting in a far away corner, having tea and chatting, although he couldn't hear a thing being said.

He edged up towards them behind another row of shelves, not wanting to disturb if they turned out not to be who he was looking for. As he got closer the sound suddenly turned on as he walked through whatever silencing charm they'd put up.

One of the witches was Madam Pince, talking to another witch Ron had never seen before, with large, black-rimmed, thick glasses and wild, light-brown, wavy hair.

Before Ron could interrupt the two though, the wild haired witch suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair, stiff as a board. Her voice, when it emerged, had become fuller, deeper, and louder, with a certainty you could forge goblin silver on.

" **The Master of Death comes, from the light the Master will be.  
****The Master of Death comes, from the dark the Master will be.**  
**And the soul will bind, or the world will end.**

**The Beacon of Light comes, from the mundane the Beacon will be.  
** **The Beacon of Dark comes, from the pure the Beacon will be.  
** **And the beacons will fight, or the world will end.**

_**The Master of Death must destroy the hope of the world.  
** _ _**The Master of Death must destroy the wealth of the world.  
** _ _**The Beacon of Light must destroy the truth of the world.  
** _ _**The Beacon of Dark must destroy the arms of the world.** _

_**Then, from the ashes, a new world can rise."** _

Madam Pince stared at her colleague, open-mouthed.

"Oh," said Professor Trelawney, "I'm sorry Irma, what was I saying?"

"I think, Sybil," said the librarian, placing a calming hand on hers, "that you've said quite enough today."

Ron shuffled back towards the center of the library, as fast as he could, all thoughts of runes forgotten. He'd just heard a prophecy. A true one, too. He had to tell Tammy. This was so cool.

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

History of Magic passed by in an ecstatic blur. Harry barely had the presence of mind to give Neville the thumbs up at the start of class, before his now overactive mind wandered to what had happened in Defense against the Dark Arts.

Soul bind!

He and Tammy had had a soul bind reaction. Not an actual binding, she'd broken off before that had happened, but their souls had definitely tried to bind.

Harry had recognized what was happening the moment their fingers touched. He'd been soul bound before after all. Seventeen times in fact, and every time had been one of the happiest and most fulfilling lives of his existence. He could still feel the faint tendrils, the barest of connections, even now, reaching out across space and time. But each beautiful life was still only one every eight thousand-odd years.

But… Every time he'd been soul bound in the past, it had been almost instant. Harry frowned. He'd never had a… failed… soul bind… Oh, whatever. The frown vanished. In his experience, soul binds were almost as inescapable as prophecies. In time, it was bound—haha—to happen.

Harry grinned. That feeling of sharing everything with someone; every emotion, every thought, every spell, patronous forms, animagus forms… it was the closest the Master of Death would ever come to equal company.

And Tammy's reaction had been amazing. Confused and shocked, yes, but also almost insulted. And the way she'd run away and then deliberately avoided his path when Quirrellmort had called on her after class. Hah… and he still didn't really know who she even was.

His classmates were still packing away their stuff at the end of class when Harry all but danced out of the classroom and down the hall.

Soul bind! soul bind! soul bind!

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the wand leveled at his back, until the stunner hit.

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

'Where did Ron  _go_?'

Insane'o'mort hadn't wanted much, just to ask her about her plans for study and the future, while not so subtly drilling her for information about her past. But it had taken quite long enough…

Tammy wandered the library's stacks of books looking for her wayward friend. Trying to find anyone in the mass of shelves, alcoves, hidden nooks, and secret rooms was nigh on impossible. They'd have to have a standard meeting point in the future, or possibly a protean charm linked communication device.

After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, Tammy gave up and briefly considered researching what the hell had happened in DADA between her and Potter, but decided against it. She'd already read every single book in the Hogwarts library to do with soul magic in her last world. There might be differences of course, but… any books that advanced would probably be in the restricted section; it wasn't as though soul magic had a monthly journal the way potions and transfiguration did.

Anyway, Ron could well be in the common room by now. Best to check there before dinner.

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

#Enervate#

Harry returned to the world of the waking to find himself tied to a chair by ropes in an empty, poorly-lit, classroom. The wand holster he'd bought from Ollivander's before school was on a desk by the door, the straps that secured it to his arm, cut. Next to it, sat his dragonskin pouch.

In front of him, sitting or leaning on several chairs and desks, were Theodore Nott, Millicent Bullstrode, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and a slightly reluctant looking Draco.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here… a little mudblood, blood traitor, rebel," a voice from behind Harry spat.

Cole Spenser, walking stiffly after his night of skele-gro, paced around to the center of the group, he towered over the first year, looking triumphant, eager, and very angry.

"Mudblood  _and_ blood traitor?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly sideways.

"SHUT UP POTTER!"

"You know," Harry's voice was as calm as an inland sea, "I do have stuff to do right now. Slytherin houses don't overthrow themselves."

Spenser growled. Potter had completely humiliated him last night and he'd had to endure the snickers and catcalls, all day, from his less than sympathetic peers. To add to that, Reginald Carter had been very unhappy. He'd summoned him to the King's couch and called him out in front of the entire common room on his many 'disgraceful errors', as Carter had put it. Well, no longer.

With the source of his anger and frustration sitting, helplessly bound, in front of him, Spenser drew his beaters bat from within his robes, stepped forward and brought it down heavily on Harry's head… which it then passed straight through. The bat smashed into the chair seat and jarred in Spenser's hand, causing him to drop it, loudly, on the floor.

Harry, now by the door, plucked his wand holster and pouch from the desk before flashing a grin and a wink to the several of his classmates who'd whirled around, shocked. Half a second later and the only evidence he'd ever been in the room were the loose ropes still hanging from the back of the center chair.

"I  _told_  you we should have broken his legs  _before_  we woke him up!" Nott started yelling, "but, oh no. 'He can't apparate inside Hogwarts,' you said, 'that's completely impossible,' you said."

"Shut up," Spenser growled.

"Next time," Nott continued, totally ignoring him, "could you at least use your wand? You're supposed to be a bloody fourth year! If we wanted to beat on him with bats we have Crabbe and Goyle for that!"

"Shut up," Spenser said again, barely holding back his rage, "if we go down to the great hall now, we can catch him on the way to dinner."

Grumbling, Nott and the other first years followed behind Spenser, who lead the group down a corridor and up a side passage, leading in the general direction of the hall.

They'd just rounded a second corner when Pansy called out, "Hey look. That's the Gryffindor girl Potter was trying to cozy up to."

Draco froze. Walking towards the group, alone, was the definite parslemouth and probable Dark Lord's daughter, Tammy Riddle.

"Oh it is, is it?" Spenser sneered.

"Err—Wait, this isn't a good idea," Draco started, but the Slytheirns had already blocked off the hallway and Riddle had been forced to slow down as she approached.

"Well hello there little girl," Spenser started, in his best Slytherin drawl, "what are you doing wondering around all on your lonesome?"

"Seriously, we  _really_  shouldn't be doing this." Draco tried again.

Nott glared at him, "Shut up, remember rule one," he hissed, loudly enough for only Draco to hear him.

Meanwhile, Riddle had answered, "I'm going to my common room," her voice was pleasant and unconcerned.

"What's the hurry?" Spenser drawled, "Why don't you spend some time to play with us?"

The girl glanced at each of her eight interloculars, all but one of whom, now had their wands drawn, before finishing on Draco. Her slate grey eyes held his gaze for a few moments before turning back to Spenser.

Riddle smiled, "I'd like that."

Draco freaked.

Before he could think rationally about what he was doing, he'd stepped forward, turned to his classmates and held his arms out, shielding Riddle from them.

"Malfoy. What the HELL?!" Nott shouted. The Slytherins all looked shocked and angry at this betrayal. Pansy, in particular, looked like he'd just crucio'd her.

"Stop! You don't understand what you're doing!" he sounded almost hysterical.

"Do  _you_  understand what you're doing?" Spenser shot back.

"Look," Malfoy pleaded, "we can go beat-up someone else, anyone else. We can go find that Ravenclaw mudblood he likes. But we really should leave this one alone."

Spenser looked confused, but Nott was grinning, killer intent shining in his eyes, dreams of Slytherin kingship playing through his head.

"No, I don't think that's it," Nott started, "I think that you've just gotten far too close with him these last few days, Malfoy… I think you sympathize with him."

"What? No I don't!"

"I think you're just hiding your true colors, and that you intend to spy on us for his pathetic little rebellion."

Behind Draco, Tammy was listening, fascinated. Someone had started a rebellion in Slytherin house?… Someone had declared King's Coup?! Unseen by all, her holly and phoenix feather wand slid into her hand.

"No! That's got nothing to do with this."

"Oh, I think it does… Rebel!" Nott's accusation hung in the air, a challenge to the others around him. When no one complained he looked back to Draco, victory dancing in his eyes.

#Locomotor Mortis#!

Nott's leg-locker curse fired straight at Malfoy, who flinched, but didn't feel it hit. Instead, a large transparent blue shield was hovering in front of him. A wand to his right was pointing towards the group, and Draco, with a jolt of adrenaline, realized it was Riddle's.

Spenser narrowed his eyes before firing a shield breaker at the shimmering blue visage. There was a flash of light, but when it dimmed the shield was still there.

"Open fire!" Spenser called, shooting off another shield breaker. A stream of curses, hexes and jinxes rained down on the two students. Draco was half crouched behind the shield, hands protecting his face, waiting for it to break. But, incredibly, it didn't.

Instead, in a one second break, when all seven attackers were breathing in, the shield dropped and Riddle stepped to Draco's side.

#Depulso# #Accio wands#

The sweep of her wand was firm and powerful and all seven Slytherins were banished away, their wands shooting through the air and clattering around her and Draco. They hit the ground hard, some landing on top of each other, groaning as they fought to get up. But before any could get to their feet, seven stunners, powerful enough to light the hallway red, had found each of the assailants and silenced them all.

From the moment the girl had started her attack to the last enemy stunned, had lasted less then four seconds.

Draco stared at the carnage in front of him, open mouthed; then at the witch standing next to him, calm and collected, and oh so very powerful. Potter had defeated a fourth year single-handed, but Riddle, had defeated the same fourth year, and six other first years, at the same time, and with the same going-to-breakfast attitude.

"Are you… are you my cousin?" he asked, dumbfounded.

She turned, surprised, and looked puzzled for a few moments before realization seemed to dawn.

"Oh, is that what your father told you? Trust Lucius to make that connection."

Riddle seemed to be thinking.

Eventually she said, "You can tell your father that he's almost right."

Draco gasped and was about to speak before Riddle interrupted him.

"—I'm sure you understand that I don't want information about my… bloodline… to be revealed to anyone."

"Y-yes, I understand."

"Good." She smiled, before looking back towards the fallen Slytherins and frowning.

"Are you going to be OK? I could arrange for you to sleep in the Gryffindor common room for a night if necessary."

Draco was now looking miserable. "No, its OK. I'm going to have to sort something more permanent out anyway and I'd never hear the last of it if I accepted shelter from a Gryffindor, no offense," he quickly added.

"Well, if you're sure. Your father might be able to get you a private room in a pinch. Being on the Hogwarts board has got to be good for something."

Draco perked up a little. "Yeah, that might work. I was going to send him a letter tonight anyway." Then he sunk down again, "Doesn't help being hunted by the whole house though."

"What about the rebel leader? Can't he offer you protection?"

He looked up, surprised the Gryffindor knew Slytherin customs, before he remembered just  _who_  he was talking to. His eyes turned to steel. "Oh, don't talk to me about  _him_ ," Draco half spat, "he's the reason I'm in this mess to start with."

"Well, perhaps, but you might want to seek him out sooner rather than later anyway. You'll find that pride makes a very poor shield."

Draco slumped.

"Hey, look," Riddle continued, "I've really got to head off now, but if you need back up for anything, feel free to call on me. I really appreciate your sticking your neck out for me like that. And if you ever wonder if you did the right thing from a purely Machiavellian stand point, then I can assure you, you did."

And with that, the midnight-black haired girl turned, and walked off down the hallway, carefully stepping over the prone bodies that littered the floor.

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

"I swear Hannah, that matchstick is going to burst into flames soon the way he's glaring at it."

Hannah and Susan were sitting at a low table in the Hufflepuff common room, talking in low voices, and watching their friend, a few tables away, still attempting to turn his matchstick into a needle.

"He managed it yesterday," replied Hannah.

"Yeah, but he's been trying again for hours… again. It can't be good for him."

"Oh, I don't know. No pain, no gain. That's what muggles say about exercise. Why can't it be true with casting spells too?"

"Hannah. Yesterday he went so hard, he fainted."

"I see nothing wrong with a guy going hard. There aren't nearly enough of them willing to put in the effort."

Susan looked at her friend, who was trying, and failing, to keep a straight face.

"Hannah, I'm serious here!"

"OK, OK. We'll get him to take a break." She turned to their friend, only to find him now face down on the desk, matchstick still unchanged.

"Oh, damn."

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

"I swear you two are the most pathetic, 'orrible pair of trouble makers I've ever seen… and yer can't even clean worth a damn!"

Filch was standing in the doorway of the trophy room, glaring at Fred and George, while the troublesome twosome did their best to clean, polish, and buff trophies and placards with hands that had literally zero friction.

The aged caretaker flinched as one of the twins dropped his bottle of soapy stuff into his steaming hot water bucket.

"Hey Fred," said George.

"Yes George?" said Fred.

George was panting with the effort of gripping his cleaning rag, while buffing the 1700's duelling trophy gripped in his armpit. The whole day had been like this… frustrating. "What. Exactly. Are we going to do. To. Get. Our Dear Miss Riddle. Back for this?"

"Never fear oh brother of mine. This was merely the opening salvo. We shall lie low for a while, let her feel like she's won… and then… when she's least expecting it. We strike!"

"Like a cobra in the night," George intoned.

"Like an arrow from the darkness," Fred agreed.

"Like a bludger in the fog."

"Like a …Boggart from the …closet?" Fred sighed and stood up to apply creamy stuff to a wooden and silver placard. He stopped and stared at it.

"Hey George." said Fred.

"Yes Fred?" said George.

"I think I've just found something interesting."

"What oh brother of mine?"

"This."

"Oh."

"Yeeaah.

"1942?"

"Yeah."

"So Quirrell is doing it?"

"Yeah."

"With a 65 year old?"

"Yeah."

The twins grinned.

"Like a cobra in the night?"

"Like a cobra in the night."

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

Later that night, Harry was kneeling on the stone floor of the chamber of secrets, carving runes along the circumference of a circle he'd already outlined in chalk. This was to be the keystone for the fidelius charm that would hide the chamber.

With two possible Voldemorts running around, he wasn't going to take any chances, even if one of them was fated to be soul bound with him.

Next to the chamber's fidelius keystone lay another circle, ready for the runes for another, different, fidelius charm.

Merlin he loved the fidelius charm. It was one of the single most overpowered spells known to wizard kind. At least, it was when the correct person was casting it. Harry smiled.

It had puzzled him, in his first life, why all the books that mentioned the fidelius charm talked about it being used to hide secrets, when all anyone ever used it for was for hiding buildings. The reason became obvious when he learned to cast it.

Part of the process of casting the charm was the perfect visualization of the secret. In the case a building, this was difficult, certainly, but not so much so that it couldn't be achieved with two or three decades of occlumency training and a few weeks of becoming familiar with the space to be charmed, provided it wasn't too big.

But, in the case of an abstract secret, the process of visualizing was a  _lot_  more complex. How would you go about visualizing, in pinpoint detail, the abstract concept of Sally-loves-Robert? And, after you had spent several decades learning to achieve the feat, would the secret still be worth keeping? The larger and more abstract the secret, the more difficult the visualization would be.

For most people, it simply wasn't worth it.

Harry, however, wasn't most people. And the Master of Death had a few very important secrets to keep.

It wouldn't be ready by tonight… but soon… soon it would be.

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

Ron sat in his four-poster bed, quilling a letter home. He hadn't managed to find Tammy all evening, even at dinner, which was annoying.

**_Dear Ginny,_ **

**_Yeah, I promised to write, so here it is._ **

**_Everything is really cool here. I was sorted into Gryffindor (Thank Merlin) and I've made a bunch of new friends and classes are actually kind of interesting (I know, bet you weren't expecting me to say that). My best friend is called Tammy. She's really cool, you'll really like her. Even though she's raised by muggles she really likes quidditch, and she's really good at chess. Still not as good as your prodigy brother though, kidding._ **

**_I actually met Harry Potter in class as well. He's kind of weird. People keep saying they keep seeing him fading into shadows and disappearing even though that's not possible in Hogwarts (according to Tammy). I've never seen him do it myself but everyone can't be wrong right? But Tammy didn't seem to like him for some reason. I think he may have done something she didn't like._ **

**_Also, I was in the library, and I overheard one of the teachers (divination I think), giving a true prophecy. It was the creepiest thing ever. Her voice went all loud and cackley. Something about the Master of Death and stopping the end of the world. I bet you anything Dumbledore is putting together a super team of light wizards right now to sort it out, just like in the last war!_ **

**_Maybe Harry Potter will be in it! But, then again, he is in Slytherin so maybe not._ **

**_Wow I wrote a lot._ **

**_Better get to bed now._ **

**_\- Ron_ **

**_PS. The food here is great! Still not as good as Mum's though._ **

\- W:PSBPnIoFP -

_**[Just before midnight]** _

It was so, so cold.

Draco shivered, miserable, and tried to pull his damp robes tighter around him.

He was lying, curled up in a ball, behind a stack of crates in the owlery, exposed to the wind and the drizzle, where he'd been writing, past curfew, to his father. The steady hooting of the owls was keeping him painfully awake, but he couldn't risk wandering the castle to find somewhere quieter, or warmer, or dryer, not if he didn't want to risk getting caught and escorted back to the Slytherin common room.

If that happened… he'd for sure wake up in the hospital wing. He didn't want that to happen.

How had Potter been looking so damn cheerful this morning?

Draco rolled over, trying and failing to get comfortable on the straw he'd gathered from around the floor. It was just so cold and he couldn't stop shivering. His normally immaculate blond hair was messed up beyond recognition.

He fought back tears, but it was hard.

He was a Malfoy, this kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen. How had things spiraled out of control so fast? He'd only been at Hogwarts two days, and already he'd been exiled from his house and forced to live in the… in the droppings and the dirt, like a… like a… oh Merlin this was how muggles lived wasn't it? In the muck and the dirt.

Draco started quietly sobbing as the realization pile-drived into him.

And the fight with his classmates… afterwards everything had been… terrifying.

Walking around the castle had felt like he was prey walking in the jungle. He kept expecting predators wearing green trimmed robes to leap out at him from around every corner.

Dinner had been a nightmare.

All the other Slytherins had been looking at him, glancing at him, whispering about him. They couldn't do anything in the public space of the great hall, but the general mood had been clear.

He'd sat at the very edge of the table, and had been the first to make a break for the exit after eating the smallest and shortest dinner he'd ever eaten in his life.

The sobbing and shivering continued, interspersed with the occasional hiccup and sniff.

"What are  _you_  doing  _here_?"

Draco jumped, startled, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his throat.

There, stood a lone figure, face concealed by the shadows of the owlery, holding a beautiful white snowy owl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day three will probably start uploading two weeks from now. It generally takes me quite a long time to let all the different strands of the story cook before I can weave them into a piece of work I can be sort-of-happy with, and damn, I am really mixing metaphors there.


End file.
